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watevermelon · 4 years ago

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✧ Jealous!Atsumu x Reader; Finally returning home after traveling with the MSBY Black Jackals, Atsumu stakes his claim over you. (nsfw)

➳ A/N: TYSM!! Message received ;) ➳ Contains: jealous smut; possessive / dominant sex; semi-public; some light choking; Osamu calls during sex and Atsumu makes you answer ✧ Masterlist

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“Atsumu, please.” You moaned out, “ We should go home first...”

“Don’t ya worry yer pretty little head.”

Eyes forcibly shuttered closed, you were basically begging Atsumu to stop.

The setter just continued to ignore you, his fingers settled inside you as you uttered contradictory pleas. You wanted more pressure, but you also wanted to do this at home. Your begging rotated between asking for more and attempting to persuade him to finally go to your shared apartment.

But there was one thing for sure, no matter how much the logical side of your brain screamed at you, your body was yearning for Atsumu right at this moment.

There was no doubt that your longtime lover was a near-expert when it came to your body. Any of your qualms would be easily pushed aside as you silently gave into his scandalous touches. And despite the latent fear of being caught by bystanders outside of the steamy vehicle, it was getting harder and harder to care.

The two of you had just left dinner with the rest of the old Inarizaki team. Having reunited after all these years, many of the others were catching-up over the lost time. A couple of them you had seen intermittently throughout the blank period - Suna and Aran stayed on the professional scene and you saw Osamu basically every other day.

As a professional athlete, Atsumu was always busy. Playing volleyball full-time was his dream and while he was proud to stand on the national stage, there were some drawbacks that the both of you had long conceded to. Often, he would be out traveling somewhere with the team, whether to stadiums in the far reaches of the country or dealing with PR that came with being a renowned celebrity.

You texted and called during your times apart, but there was nothing that could replace actually being there with someone. The physical affection that you missed from your lover could never be replaced with your own touches.

But as long as Atsumu returned back to you, that was enough to fill your heart whole.

And so you often hung around your own friends and even Osamu. He often teased you were his future sister-in-law, despite nothing being set in stone and not a single rock on your finger. You would reason that Atsumu was a handsome athlete on the world stage meeting plenty of people, but even Osamu had adamantly stated that you alone were his fated future sister.

If only the asshole was as thoughtful around his brother as he was around you.

Osamu was probably trying to push Atsumu’s buttons on purpose, but now you were the unwilling collateral damage.

It started simply, about the new dress you bought in anticipation of Atsumu returning home. You ate lunch with the onigiri twin and were walking together when you passed a boutique with a simple, red dress that flirted high above your knees in the display. You thought about getting it and, with nothing to do for the rest of the day, Osamu hung out with you as you tried it on.

It was all coincidental and you thought nothing of it as Osamu brought it up at the dinner table as you were wearing it now. But when the twin complimented your sense of style, the team seemed to egg you on.

“Ya look so nice today, (L/N)!” Ginjima added.

“Out of all of us, (L/N) has always had the most style.” Suna snidely commented as he gestured to the twins with his chin.

“(L/N)-chan has always been beautiful.” Kosaku complimented, earning a small nod in agreement from Kita.

You glanced at Atsumu in the corner of your eye. And while the smile on his face spelled peace, you knew from his hardened eyes that he was not happy.

It was one thing to accept the compliments of the others, but you were admittedly openly basking in their undivided attention. If he were in a more steady head-space, Atsumu would have frowned or pouted or even took action to put the others in the place. But you hadn’t really seen each other in weeks and he was looking forward to spending individual time with you.

Of course, nothing went his way and instead of the hot night he was looking forward to, instead you ushered him out of your shared apartment to this reunion dinner.

Osamu sat on your other side while Atsumu had to sit there and listen to the two of you chat like you were the ones dating. It was a stupid thought filled with only jealousy, but it only fostered the small pit in his stomach that seemed to grow in recent times.

Atsumu knew that the love you shared between each other was true, but it silently broke his heart every time he had to say goodbye to you knowing that the next time he would see you would be in days or maybe even weeks. You had complained a few times, but you did everything the two of you could to keep your bond. Video chats and texts were one thing, but seeing you constantly on his brother’s social media was another.

Lunches, hang-outs - what else was Atsumu missing?

And seeing the two of you openly talk about it now? Right to his face?

Atsumu wanted to claim where you sat.

And that predatory stare, that possessive claim Atsumu held over you all night as he draped an arm across the back of your chair, came to fruition the moment you two were alone.

You waved goodbye to the rest, Osamu even shooting you a smirk at what he knew his twin was eager to do. A part of you was worried about your body for the next few hours, but when Atsumu tightly squeezed the side of your hip, you knew it would be worth it.

And so he near dragged you two where you parked earlier, you were unceremoniously tossed in the back of the car, Atsumu locking the door behind him as he clamored in. His lips were on you instantly and if not for the tinted windows, you would have pushed him off.

He ravaged you with the intensity of a man starved, sucking at your neck and making his way down your body. There was no hesitation on his end, his hands eagerly pushing your shirt and bra over your breasts. The moment you felt the chill on your skin, he latched onto an already beaded nipple.

“I’ll make sure ya only remember my name by the end of tonight.” He whispered against your skin possessively.

Atsumu maneuvered you around the back seats, pushing away clothing as your skirt bunched up around your hips. Your underwear was thrown away, somewhere on the floor of the car. There were surely red splotches in his wake, kissing at your chest before making his way further down. He dipped a playful tongue in your belly button as he went, surprising you into sitting upright.

He lifted you by the hips, athletic strength more than enough to handle you. You had no firm grasp on the cushions, hand moving to one of the head-rests but having no way to move without having to ask the setter to do so. Atsumu held you completely in his grasp, back arched as his lips trailed down to your awaiting cunt.

“Who do you belong to?”

Atsumu watched as you squirmed uncomfortably. It was obvious you wanted more pressure, more anything, but he was conducting you to the beat of his drum today. He sucked at your clit and watched you cry-out his name in response, near begging him for more.

There was no denying it at this point, evidence of your want all over his face. Atsumu shoved two fingers, to the knuckles, inside you. You threw your head back at the movement, but the setter made no effort to actually move inside you. He pumped once, twice, before pulling out of you entirely.

“Please.”

Atsumu playfully scoffed and you felt the vibration against your skin. You pushed your hips up in response, which only made him back off more.

The teasing asshole.

“I asked ya a question.”

“It’s only ever been you!” You replied, almost sobbing as you looked down at Atsumu, that infamous smirk still on his face from earlier.

“Oh? Why don’t ya prove it?” Atsumu stated, placing you back down on the seat. That second of peace was followed by the setter gripping your neck and pulling you to him, not enough to make you panic, but more than enough to make you aware of the possessive hold.

Atsumu was up on his knees while you were eye level with what he was surely going to have you full with in a second.

“Do I have to do everythin’ myself?” He asked, a hint of impatience in his teasing words.

His hands were still around your throat as you reached for his belt, unclasping and then bringing down his pants. It stayed bunched around his knees and all that was left in front of you were his boxers.

“Feelin’ meek or somethin’ today?” Atsumu spit-out, “Why don’tcha put yer mouth to good use?”

He was being such an asshole and you loved every second of it.

Not that would admit it to the already big-headed setter.

You slowly peeled down the cloth, his awaiting cock springing up against his stomach as you went. Large and veiny and all yours, you admired it for a quick second before licking from the base to the tip. Atsumu groaned as his hold went from your neck to your hair, harshly carding itself in your locks.

Your playful attempts at licking his dick met an impatient scoff from the setter, until he finally gripped his dick and angled it to your mouth. While Atsumu knew your body well at this point, the second could be said about you to him. You sucked eagerly at the head, the vibration going straight to his groin as Atsumu moaned heavenward.

“Oh, playin’ dirty?” He asked, between huffs. “Yer gonna get it in a bit, don’t worry.”

A part of you was overly eager for his promise, almost making you want to act out on purpose if only to get a harder sentence later. But when Atsumu pulled at your hair again, you wanted to make him feel real good. After all, this was the first time you had his dick down your throat in weeks, you wanted to taste him fully.

You sucked at his dick eagerly, your hands going to the space your mouth had not yet reached. Slowly picking up the pace, you watched Atsumu go from a hard stare on you to getting lost in the euphoria of your greedy mouth.

And so you hollowed your cheeks, taking him in all the way to the base as his cock hit the back of your throat. You breathed in through your nose calmly, steadying your breath as you looked up at Atsumu. His eyes were fluttering to the back of his head, leaning backwards slightly as only a hand on the seat held him upright.

There was barely any room to move your tongue, but you did your best to feel against the veiny underside of the setter. His groans only got louder and louder, the grip in your hair incredibly painful as he continued to spiral under your pleasure.

It was only a slight surprise when Atsumu pushed you off. Flipping you over the seats, Atsumu leaned down to whisper against your ear, “Only ‘cause ya’ve been good so far”

You steadied one arm and leg on the cushion beneath you for you while the others stretched to the floor to keep you upright. Stomach against the car seats, you were more than ready for this moment. Atsumu wasted no time angling himself with your heat, immediately sheathing himself to the base the moment he got his bearings.

The car was filled with grotesque, wet sounds as his hips met your own. Atsumu barely gave you any time to adjust, thrusting up into you with quick, deep motions. Your own hand gripped the cushion firmly, nails almost digging into the fabric as if it would give you physical reprieve against his strong thrusts.

“Fuck.” you moaned despite yourself.

You were still in the car, plenty of opportunities for anyone to catch you two.

Not that you really cared anymore.

“Only I know what you like,” Atsumu murmured against your skin, his lips latching to the side of your neck. “Only I know how tight this pretty pussy is.”

When you didn’t respond immediately, the setter slowed down, almost taunting you that you were nothing but an eager slave for his dick. You groaned at his teasing, trying to move your hips back to him, but a steady hand on your waist kept you in place.

“Or am I wrong?” He asked against your skin, a hand trailing up your spine.

“Only you.” you groaned back, reaffirming his words.

It was not that Atsumu was not usually as dominant as this, because usually he was like this. But it usually came with some type of warning or reasoning. Last time it was from hanging around beefy boi Bokuto too much and it seemed now his twin was the new target.

No matter, you secretly loved dominant Atsumu.

“And who’s the only one who will see ya like this?” he asked, almost with an innocent twinge as his hand snaked around the back of your neck.

“You!” You out-cried in between thrusts, head angling upward as you tried your best to get even closer to him.

“Say my name.”

“Fuck me harder, Atsumu! Please!” you whimpered, losing all your faculties.

“There’s my girl,” he praised before sucking another spot on your shoulder.

You could almost feel the smirk of his lips on your skin.

At least you were getting what you wanted. And as Atsumu picked up back to his rigorous pace, you almost thanked the volleyball god’s for finally getting the much needed friction. The sounds of wet slapping and parallel groans promulgated the car, pedestrians outside innocent to the steamy happenings in Atsumu’s car.

“Fuck!” you screamed.

“That’s it.” Atsumu teased, “Let it out, princess.”

His pace was fast and hard, uncaring of the world around you as Atsumu lost himself in your tight hole. From him to be this brutal, you wondered if Atsumu had been envisioning you like this the entire meal. And now you were going to know exactly how much Atsumu had yearned for you.

His fingers curled tightly around your hips, bringing you back to meet his every thrust. There was barely anything you could do against his onslaught, gripping the seats around you as if to give you any physical reprieve.

Your brain was focused on nothing but Atsumu, not even realizing that there was suddenly another sound in the car. The heat of the euphoria covered over the sounds of something vibrating somewhere in the car hadn’t even registered in your brain.

But you surely did not miss the fact that one of Atsumu’s bruising hands had left your hips. And instead, that free hand began to feel around on the floor for the lost item.

“Ay.” Atsumu greeted into his phone, “Somethin’ wrong, ‘Samu?”

You shot a look over your shoulder, confused and wondering why on god’s earth was he saying his twin’s name at this moment. It was only when you saw his phone that you blanched, instantly trying to pull away from the setter. But Atsumu had you pinned, not stopping in his pace as he continued on the phone.

“Ah, (F/N) forgot ‘er phone?” You wanted to wipe the smirk off the setters face, but your hands were occupied in either keeping you help up or covering your mouth from letting out a peep.

This was Osamu of all people! You saw him on a daily basis and if you were caught on the phone for this you would hardly be able to look him in the eye anymore.

Atsumu took one look at your desperate face and decided to make the most of it.

“Lemme put ‘er on the phone for ya.”

The look of realization must have been obvious on your face, for Atsumu’s smirk only grew as he stared back into your eyes.

Atsumu picked up the hand that was holding you upright on the seat and instead put the phone there. You tried to make a fist instead, a silent warning for if he continued this stupid act, but the setter just ground his hips against yours. You stumbled over a moan and Atsumu shot you a conspiratory look, pressing a finger to his lips to signal you to be quiet.

“Hey, Osamu?” You attempted to greet in your usually cheerful tone.

“Hey, (F/N).” His voice sounded through the receiver, making you realize that this was well and truly happening.

“I forgot something at the restaurant?” You asked straight to the point, trying to keep your voice even as Atsumu kissed down the valley of your spine. His pace was still slow, but his small caresses were keeping you actively aware.

“Yea, I have yer phone with me since ya left early.” Osamu stated, his voice casual as you heard his loud dishwasher in the background, signalling he was already home.

“Ah, thank you! I can pick-it up next time I see YOU!” You stuttered over the last word, Atsumu pulling out completely just to fill you to the brim in one thrust.

Atsumu’s quick thrusting resumed from earlier and there was little you could do to hold in a small moan this time. Thankfully, Osamu on the other end had yet to catch onto what was truly happening, since he was recounting your next lunch a couple days from now.

“Is that safe? Goin’ a few days without yer phone?” Osamu asked.

“I - maybe?” you panted in response, not even sure what the question was.

Osamu paused, silence reining for a few seconds, enough to make you panic that he had caught on before he asked. “Ya know both ‘Tsumu and I would kill for ya if somethin’ happened cause ya didn’t have yer phone. Let’s try to stop that from happenin’ before.”

Was what he did say and also what you did not hear.

Instead, you felt your hips rocking back to meet Atsumu as he continued thrusting upward into you. One of his hands around your waist followed the arm holding the phone, pushing it back up to your ear as if to remind you of the painful phone call you were on. His other hand went around your waist, traveling to your clit between and rolling it between his fingers.

This time, there was little you could do to muffle your surprised gasp.

“Whatever, (F/N). I know you can defend yourself, but this is not somethin’ you should fight.”

That wording was odd, you thought in your mind briefly. But any additional thoughts were slammed away with Atsumu’s persistent thrusts.

“I know,” you settled on replying back between pants before stuffing your face back into the car seat.

You expect some type of response back, only continuing to push against Atsumu as the hard slap of skin filled the car. You hadn’t even realized how long Osamu was silent for, before his voice nearly pierced your skin.

“Don’t tell me yer getting dicked down right now.”

Your head shot up immediately, your grasp on the phone tightening as both you and Atsumu heard Osamu hit the nail right on the head with his observation.

There was already an excuse on the tip of your tongue when Atsumu pulled out entirely again before sheathing himself in your dripping cunt. You moaned loudly at the combination of being filled and what his fingers were doing to your lower pearl. There was nothing you could say to get you out of that one.

To your surprise, Atsumu grabbed the phone this time. “Listenin’ to that? She’s mine on every fuckin’ level.”

You heard Osamu laugh through the receiver, before he continued talking. What it was about? You had no fucking clue, the sound just a small murmur in comparison to the sounds of your bodies meeting.

“I hate you so much,” You moaned back, Atsumu still on the phone with his twin.

“Oh? Are you going to cum?” He teased you before turning to the phone, “Ight, talk to ya later.”

How the fuck the both of them could be so casual about this, you didn’t want to know.

Throwing the phone somewhere else on the floor, Atsumu lifted your knee and brought it up to his shoulder. You had very little control in this situation, grasping onto cushions simply to keep from falling. But Atsumu had full control, maintaining his almost impossible rhythm in this deeper position.

“Ahhh, stop.” You weakly protested, “Atsumu, you’re gonna make me…”

“I know exactly what’s going to happen,” he countered.

The speed of his fucking, coupled with the relentless toying of your clit, pushed you over the edge. You came with a near-scream, angling your back as your eyes rolled heavenward. Near simultaneously, you felt Atsumu unload himself within you, holding his hips against yours to make sure you received every single drop.

It was only when your shared essence dripped down to the seat that you realized you hadn’t used a condom. And while you would had usually sighed at the clean-up, especially in a public space like this, Atsumu was already at your back, kissing along your spine.

“Thanks for the creampie, asshole.” you groaned, dropping your head onto the car seat.

“Ya know ya love it, princess.” Atsumu countered, leaning over you as he flipped you onto your back, placing light kisses against the nape of your neck.

You pushed his face away when you fully realized what just happened, “Fuck, Osamu really heard that.”

“Good, now he knows who you belonged to.” Atsumu stated with a level-expression.

“Everyone knows I’m yours, you asshole.”

“It’s still good to send out reminders.” Atsumu replied, “Especially with the way everyone was openly leering at you today.”

“Fuck, you planned to do this, didn’t you?” you asked, not remembering the last time you ever lost your phone. You swore it was in your bag before you left, even taking a selfie with the old crew before.

But Atsumu just smirked and continued to place butterfly kisses on your skin, not dignifying your question with an actual verbal response was enough of an answer.

“Yer beautiful tits, yer legs… these pouty lips.” Atsumu murmured against your skin between pecks, “All mine. Right?”

Something in his voice just screamed at you that he wanted a real answer. His brown eyes bore into your own, an oddly serious expression for having teased you the pats half-hour. Was he jealous of Osamu? Of how much time you spent together? That was nonsense, he was going to be your future family and your heart only beat for Atsumu.

“I’m all yours.” You answered, putting a hand beneath his chin and lifting it to you. He met you halfway, pulling you into another bruising kiss.

One of his hands went back around your waist to pull you close to him, your skin felt lighting aflame for the second time as it touched. You felt Atsumu harden within you again, athletic stamina already preparing him for another round it seemed.

“I love you, Atsumu.”

“I love you, too.”

✧ Masterlist

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mmvalentine · 3 years ago

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What Cardan Knows | Jurdan

Canon compliant I suppose, just more post-QoN nonsense. Smut aplenty.

Cardan knows a secret about Jude.

Knows she likes to be kissed right between the shoulder blades.

Knows that if you move your lips on the vertebra that sticks out at the base of her neck, she melts like chocolate in the summer sun.

Jude has spent today, like many days, sitting on her throne like she was born there. There is something so natural in the way that she rules the fae that never came quite so easy to Cardan. He feels more comfortable next to her now than he ever thought he would. Still. He does not think he relishes the power like Jude does.

And of course Jude looks spectacular while she does it. Cardan reclines in his own throne, throwing one leg over an armrest and letting his head fall back against the back. He watches Jude, straight backed and imperious, as she hands down stern judgement for a faerie who stole a human child. She had outlawed changelings since she has been Queen, and although the folk do not like it, they abide by her word.

Cardan finds it sexy that the court is still a little afraid of Jude. Cardan finds it sexy that this sharp and unyielding ruler is his alone to unravel. Later.

Jude does not like anyone to know that she can be tender. Even now, years after she’s gained the loyalty of her court, she avoids being vulnerable. Puts on her armour every morning to meet her subjects, her advisors, and even her sisters. Oak might be an exception. And Cardan, when he knows where to fit his myriad keys.

These are not things Jude has ever told him out loud. Not even to her husband would she confess the chinks in her armour aloud. But Cardan knows anyway. Knows the secret places she keeps her softness, and delights in uncovering them when they are alone in the safety of the dark of their bedroom. Only when she is sure no one is looking does she bare her underbelly to him and let him press toothy kisses there. Cardan loves when Jude is ruthless. Cardan loves when Jude is soft.

Now Jude is sending the faerie away and the fae dislike her changing the rules. But she hands out cruelty like treats in the throne room and so they still adore her. A good public punishing is as good as trading babies. There is a hard glint in Jude’s eye as she watches him go, and then she flicks her wrist and the revelry begins once again. It’s all so simple. She looks out at the crowd with a cold boredom on her face, but Cardan knows she’s riding a high from watching her own orders executed. He also knows it turns her on like nothing else.

And so Cardan pushes himself up off his bramble throne, leans over to his wife with his back to the court, and murmurs, “take your leave my Queen, for I have business with you elsewhere.”

Jude’s lip curls when she answers, and her voice trickles like ice water over his skin. “I do not attend your bidding my Lord, I would stay to see the end of the revel.”

“Nevertheless,” Cardan says, and his fingers slide down her wrist to read her telltale pulse. “I have business with you elsewhere.”

And although Jude does delight in denying her husband, she rarely denies herself. So she rises smoothly while Cardan watches with one eyebrow raised, and allows him to take her hand and lead her into the alcove behind the throne room.

Cardan shuts the door and the noise outside suddenly chokes off. He turns and Jude is staring at him with her chin up in her regal golden gown, and she is resplendent.

“Well?” She demands. “What is it you wish to discuss so urgently?”

“First,” Cardan purrs, “I mean this to be an informal meeting, since you and I are wed and need not stand on ceremony. Let me remove your formal attire.” He walks behind her and Jude’s head turns, but she doesn’t otherwise move. Cardan’s movements are careful as he removes the heavy crown from Jude’s head; he has had his fingers bitten for this before.

But Jude does not react, so he goes for the heavy collar of gold plates she wears, unhooking the clasp and lifting it carefully from her shoulders. Next is the fastening in the back of her bodice, and even as she is undressed Jude’s spine remains as straight as the sword at her hip.

There have been times where she fucks him just like that. With steel in her eyes and Cardan’s throat between her fingers, when she holds him down with her thighs and draws his rapture from his lips like she can summon his very soul.

But today Cardan wants to pull at Jude’s threads and unspool her at his feet. So he stands behind her, and kisses her like feathers in that secret spot of hers. In between her scapulae. Traveling up toward the bones of her neck. And infinitesimally, Jude’s shoulders loosen beneath his touch.

Cardan smiles against her skin as his fingers skim the outside edge of her bare arms, and she leans her head back toward him so his lips can better reach her throat. When her eyes slide closed, Cardan pulls the tie of her skirt and it pools around her feet. He lifts her out of it and by the time her weight is in his arms, Jude is pliant against his chest.

Cardan lays Jude down on the low couch, and in the moment between kisses where his tongue lifts off her skin and his teeth touch down elsewhere, he whispers honeyed pet-names to her. "Ruthless," he calls her sweetly. He moves down her belly. "Unscrupulous. Uncompromising. Without mercy. Immovable."

At the last, he curls his tongue in the apex of her thighs, and Jude lifts her hips to his mouth with a soft cry. She is not immovable, and he knows it. His tail wraps around her ankle as her leg tries to jerk upward, and holds it in place. Cardan moves lazily, breathes steadily against the Queen and relishes in her slow undoing.

"Cardan," she whispers, and he hums with his lips on her pussy.

In fact, the real secret that Cardan knows is that Jude is not any of the things he calls her, and despite the way fae crave wickedness like opium, it is the very heart of Jude that he loves the most.

"Will you punish me, too?" Cardan asks her. His face moves up her body but one of his fingers replace his tongue inside her and Jude is not able to answer him. "If I confess my sins to you will you hand down my own judgement?"

"Did you steal any children away?" Jude manages to ask him, but her breathing is coming in short pants and her voice is strained.

"No," Cardan laments. "Although I think I would enjoy having a pet."

Jude's eyes flash, but Cardan makes one finger two and her words don't make it out.

"My sins," Cardan tells her, and then leans close to admit it in her ear while his hand speeds up between her legs. "are so numerous as to be unforgivable." He even sounds a little sad, and Jude's eyes open.

"There is always mercy," she breathes.

"Then forgive me, my saint," Cardan says, and then twists his fingers and presses down on her clit at the same time, so Jude climaxes suddenly and unexpectedly. Her lovely brown eyes widen in surprise and her lips part in bliss, and before she has come all the way down Cardan removes his fingers and slides his cock into her even as she shudders and spasms.

Cardan barely moves before Jude is coming again, and the waves of it around him are exquisitely divine. He moans his pleasure as he sinks into her again and again, and revels in the Queen laid bare. His hips kiss hers and it is in this space he finds his absolution daily. For as hard and uncaring as Jude is not, so is Cardan secretly not so unaffected or shameless as he makes out to be.

And as Jude wraps her legs around his waist, and her hands around the back of his neck pull his forehead down to hers, he wonders if this is what Jude knows, too.

Cardan moves his lips against Jude's neck and the increasingly irregular rhythm of his hips matches the erratic beating of his heart, and when Jude's teeth bite into his throat as if to suckle at his lifeblood, he comes hard buried deep inside her.

Minutes later, the King and Queen of Elfhame are still tangled together on the couch. Jude's head is on Cardan's chest and he has the sharp claw tip of a fingernail circling against her shoulder. A faint bruise is blooming on his throat, and the tip of his tail is brushing against her elbow.

"Shall we return you to the revel, my love?" Cardan asks her. Jude looks at him, then stands fluidly and holds her chin up and her arms out.

"Dress me, husband," she commands, and Cardan picks up her clothes off the floor and puts everything back on. Piece by piece, layer by layer, fingers meticulous. Pinning her hair and fastening the scabbard by her waist. Jude is still like a mannequin, and when he is done she lowers her arms and sweeps out of the room without a backward glance.

Cardan straightens his own clothes, plonks his crown back on his head and then saunters back out to the thrown room. Jude is already being offered a selection of the fattest, sweetest grapes and she spears them with a fine dagger before she puts them to her kiss-swollen lips. And when she drags the knife point back out of her mouth, he doesn't know whether he'd rather be the blade or the fruit.

Either way, he is more than content to spend the rest of the night watching Jude rule the fae with an iron fist, as his kisses fade on her skin.

****

Sorry that was so curly! When I started writing Jurdan I just thought I would write these snarly, snappy creatures but it turns out I'm just a sucker for them shedding their skins when they're alone. Also, I planned on writing hardcore smut and all that came out was... intense feels? What is happening?

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish

*NOTE* I have two entirely separate masterlists/ taglists for my feysand and jurdan stuff!! Hope this makes it all easy to navigate!

#jurdan #jurdan fic #smut #mine

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

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Two Birds [Part Two]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

For Maribat March Day 31 - Reunion

The school trip to Gotham was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a reward to the class, a celebration of the recent defeat of Hawkmoth by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette wanted to celebrate. She really didn't want to cry on the trip. Yet, as the plane touched down in Gotham, Marinette was staring out the plane window at the rain and the setting sun, rubbing her eyes, trying her best to brush away the tears before they formed.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Alya looked over at Marinette, concern visible on her face.

Marinette nodded weakly, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I have some bad memories associated with Gotham. One of my childhood friends... his parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham and I lost contact with him after that. It's always been a very raw subject for me."

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Lila leaned across the aisle to interrupt the conversation. "Your childhood friend's parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham? It's okay to admit that you're scared of Gotham because of the supervillains. You don't have to come up with some outlandish story for why you're upset."

Marinette glared over at Lila, her eyes shiny from both her tears and her anger. "I wasn't talking to you, Lila, but for your information, I'm not making up a story. I wouldn't lie about the death of my friend's parents. I hate liars."

Lila flinched back, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could tell the truth. We wouldn't judge you for it."

Alya frowned, giving Lila a stern look. "Lila, Marinette is seriously upset. I don't think that this is the right time to lecture her."

"Oh, of course." As soon as Alya turned away from her, Lila's expression was murderous. Marinette could care less. She turned away and ignored Lila, not in the mood to deal with the liar's taunts. If she could just hold back her tears until they got off the plane, maybe she could pretend that it was the rain that was making her face wet.

It took an hour to get from the plane to the hotel room, and that hour was torture for Marinette, who spent the entire journey holding back tears. As soon as Alya shut the door to their hotel room with a click, Marinette finally let herself cry, curling up into a ball on the hotel bed.

Marinette felt Alya wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I've got you, Marinette. It'll be okay."

Marinette didn't know how long she cried for. All she knew was that when the tears finally stopped, the sky had gone dark outside. "What time is it?"

"It's a little past eight. I texted Nino to tell Ms. Bustier that you weren't feeling well, so she won't be bothering you with any class president duties tonight."

"Thanks." Marinette shifted herself from lying on her side to sitting up. "Have I ever told you what happened to Dick?"

Alya shook her head. "You've mentioned him a few times, but only that you two were friends when you were younger, and then lost touch."

Marinette sighed. "It all started when I was nine years old. My Grandma Gina was babysitting me for the weekend. She was old friends with the ringmaster of a circus that was in Paris, so she took me there to stay the weekend. That was where I met Dick and his parents..."

Marinette told the story in bursts, stopping to cry every few minutes when she got too emotional to continue. "...And I never spoke to him again after that. Gotham's foster care records aren't open to the public, and I stopped myself from Googling his name a long time ago. It just hurts too much to get my hopes up."

Alya wrapped Marinette up in another hug. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to make this better."

"I think this trip might be good for me. It hurts a lot now, but I think once it's over I might finally feel a little more at peace."

"I hope so. But if there's ever any time where you need to just stop and let it all out, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya was Marinette's best friend, even if Alya was friends with Lila as well. That was Marinette's one regret - when she unmasked Hawkmoth and Mayura as Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancour, there was no way to unmask Lila as a liar as well. Gabriel refused to name Lila as an accomplice, aware that admitting to having manipulated a teen girl into performing acts of terrorism wouldn't look good for him. So Lila was free to continue her reign of terror, though at least now Marinette could be rightfully angry with her, without fear of being akumatized.

----------

The class trip was partially sponsored by the Wayne Scholarship Foundation. Usually, the Wayne Scholarship Foundation only awarded scholarships, given to students all across America to pay for college, but after Hawkmoth's defeat and the media coverage that followed, a rather large sum was awarded to Marinette’s class for their bravery on the front lines of Hawkmoths' attacks. The Wayne Foundation organized tours and shows for them all over the city, starting with a tour of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens bright and early on the first morning of their trip. Then the class would go on a walking tour of Gotham during the afternoon, ending at a high-end sushi restaurant for dinner, followed by a night exploring East Hills Park during one of their famous firework shows. The late May day promised to be warm and sunny, so Marinette put on her favorite red floral sundress with a jean jacket overtop to hide the thin spaghetti straps, and sturdy tennis shoes to handle all of the walking she would be doing.

"Marinette!" gasped Lila as soon as Alya and Marinette walked into the main lobby. "Are you sure that your outfit is dress-code approved?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lila. With my jacket on, this fits the dress code. I wouldn't make something that I can't wear."

"Okay. I was just checking. Your dress seemed a little too short to me, but I guess I just prefer something more modest."

As Lila walked away, Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure Lila didn't mean to come off as slut-shaming. I think she's just lashing out because wants to make sure you don't get in trouble for your outfit." Even Alya sounded uncertain of her explanation, as not even she believed herself. Without the support of Hawkmoth, Lila was no longer a cunning and calculated mastermind of manipulation. Now she was just a scared bully, desperately doing whatever she could to maintain her power over the class.

"Whatever," Marinette sighed. "I won't let her ruin my trip."

"That's the spirit. Besides, anyone with taste would know that your outfit looks super cute.”

Marinette smirked. "Are you saying that you don't think Lila has taste?"

"Definitely not as much taste as you. You're the Queen of Fashion Trends. You always look good." Alya put her arm around Marinette's shoulder. "Plus, you know better than to wear cowboy boots to school."

Marinette giggled as she remembered the incident. Lila came to school showing off her 'authentic' cowboy boots from America, seemingly unaware that they were the ugliest shoes anyone in their class had ever seen.

"You'll have a great day today, I promise." Alya walked with Marinette to the bus waiting outside. They got a seat up near the front, by Nino and Adrien.

Adrien had been the most affected by Hawkmoth's unmasking, given that it revealed his Father as a terrorist and his Mother as a coma-patient. All seemed lost for Adrien, as a team of Paris's best doctors revealed that Emilie Agreste was braid-dead. They planned on pulling the plug on Emilie's life support until, Amelie Graham de Vanily revealed that by combining the twin rings she and her sister owned with Ladybug's power of creation, together they had the power to bring Emilie back to life. Marinette was skeptical, after all, Amelie seemed to have ulterior motives in everything she did, but how could Marinette refuse when it was the only thing that she could do to help Adrien. In the end, she decided to help, no matter the consequences. Miraculously, it worked. Emilie was brought back to life and Adrien had a mother again.

However, in the aftermath of her decision, Marinette realized one crucial detail. In all of the chaos of deciding whether or not to work with Amelie, when she based her final decision on Adrien, she did it because he was her friend, not because he was her crush. At that moment, she realized that the overwhelming crush she had on Adrien since the age of thirteen had faded. In its place was a beautiful friendship.

"Good morning," chirped Adrien.

"What's up, dudes?" chimed in Nino.

"I can't believe we're here in Gotham. I thought our class trip to London was cool, but this is just incredible. I can't believe that the Wayne Foundation organized all of this for us," Alya gushed.

Marinette smiled. She knew that her friends deserved the vacation. Alya, Nino, and Adrien (though his involvement as Aspik was brief) all helped in the fight against Hawkmoth, even though they never revealed their superhero identities to each other. "What are you all most excited about?"

"I can't wait to see the Superhero Museum," said Alya. "I can't believe we were invited to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the new exhibition."

"It is a celebration of the defeat of Hawkmoth. I suppose they wanted some real Parisians there to see it."

"I'm excited for Super: an American Musical, with the original cast. Did you guys know that this is their last week in Gotham before the show starts on Broadway!" Nino cheered.

Marinette smiled. "That is cool. I've heard that it's a fan favorite to win a Tony this year."

When all eyes landed on Adrien to answer the question, he shrugged. "I just want to experience everything. And take a lot of pictures. I promised my Mom that I would send her some."

"How about we take one now?" Marinette suggested.

Adrien nodded and the group of friends squeezed together to take a selfie.

"How about you, Marinette?"

"The Wayne Foundation Fundraising Gala," Marinette answered promptly. "It's one of the most influential events in fashion. I've heard that celebrities wear their second-best outfits to the Met Gala and save their best for the Wayne Gala. I know that the Wayne Foundation is paying for a shopping trip to pick out an outfit for the Gala, but I made my dress own and brought it here."

Alya laughed. "I should have guessed."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't resist. This is the first opportunity I've had to wear my newest creation."

"Do you have pictures of it?" asked Adrien.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not showing anyone until the Gala. I'm keeping it safe in my room. I don't want to jinx anything."

"Hawkmoth is gone. We're in Gotham, living it up. Life is good." Alya summarized, and the whole group chimed in their agreement. Life was good.

----------

"Is everything in this city named after the Waynes?" asked Nino as they stepped off the bus in from of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens.

"The Waynes are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Gotham. When you're that rich, life is just a game of buying your name onto as many buildings as possible," Adrien answered.

"The Waynes and their extraordinary money are the reason why we're here, so I'm willing to forgo making fun of everything they put their name on," Alya decided.

Once they got through the doors to the Botanical Garden, Marinette was entranced. Flowers of every shade surrounded her, the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves was the only thing she could hear, the smell of pollen and fresh air filled her lungs. It was heavenly.

"I'm Olivia, but you can all call me Liv," spoke the blonde tour guide as she approached the class. "I'll be giving you a tour of the Botanical Gardens, the largest sanctuary for endangered plants in New Jersey. We're known especially for our orchid garden, which we'll walk through at the end of our tour."

As the tour continued, Marinette noticed that one hallway was blocked off by a sign reading: Hydrangea Exhibition Coming This Fall.

Liv pointed out the hallway. "Down that hallway is the upcoming Hydrangea Exhibition, which is replacing the old New Jersey Wildflower exhibit. Now, I know you're all from out of town, but if you're even in Gotham again, make sure you check out the Botanical Gardens. We're always getting new exhibits-"

Liv was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. One of the panes of glass making up the room had been shattered, and shards rained down on screaming tourists. Marinette's eyes widened as she recognized Poison Ivy, lowering herself through the now opened ceiling on her vines. "You thought you could destroy the native vegetation of this city and get away with it? Nothing escapes my notice. Now, I would like to have a little chat with whoever's in charge here."

Liv motioned for all the students to get down, whispering, "As long as we stay out of Poison Ivy's way, we'll be perfectly fine. Just stay calm and stay quiet."

Marinette watched as the Director of the Botanical Gardens came out to reason with Poison Ivy. He pleaded with the villain, "We won't destroy any of the wildflower gardens, I swear. I'll make sure myself that the wildflower exhibit will be moved to public parks all across Gotham."

Poison Ivy shook her head. "That's not good enough. You think you can wash your hands of these flowers so long as someone else offers to take them? How long do you think the wildflower gardens will last without any sort of protection?"

"We'll make sure that the gardens are protected, I promise."

Narrowing her eyes, Poison Ivy gave the Director a cruel smile. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Joseph Hoffman of 524 Shelton Avenue, that nothing happens to those flowers. Otherwise..." Poison Ivy let the threat hang in the air, using her vines to ascend back up to the ceiling.

The next few moments were so chaotic and full of movement that Marinette couldn't quite piece together what had happened. All she knew was that one second Poison Ivy was leaving the way she came and the next second, Batman and Robin were facing her down in the middle of the Botanical Gardens.

"Oh, hello Batman, Robin. It's so nice to see you. I was just leaving though, so unless you want to fight me where all these plants - and civilians, I suppose - could get hurt, I would step out of my way."

"Poison Ivy, we both know that I can't just let you go free after you threatened this man's life."

Poison Ivy sighed dramatically. "Oh well, I gave you a chance. Now it looks like I'll have to start getting civilians involved. The villain's eyes panned over the room, her eyes just happening to make contact with Marinette's for a split second before Marinette looked away. But that split second was enough. Marinette felt vines start to wrap around her forearms, yanking her forward.

Marinette was pulled all the way over to Poison Ivy, Batman, and Robin, until she was stopped in between the villain and heroes. "What's your name?" Poison Ivy asked, a menacing smile on her face.

"M-Marinette," she stuttered out, eyes wide.

Batman's expression was stoic and unyielding, while Robin looked at her with wide, stunned eyes. Batman spoke, "Why don't we move this outside where no one - plants or civilians - will get hurt."

Poison Ivy nodded. "I will require a head start, though, so I'll keep my vines wrapped around Marinette's throat. As soon as I'm out of range the vines will go slack and she'll be able to go on with her day. However, if you start to come after me before then, I'll tighten my vines and poor little Marinette might not make it."

Marinette stiffened as the vines grew around her throat, just loose enough for her to take shallow breaths. Poison Ivy disappeared from view, but Marinette continued to stay perfectly still, desperately trying to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. No one made a move toward Marinette, no one willing to risk the consequences of making a move while Poison Ivy could still control the vines.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about five minutes, the vines relaxed and fell to the floor. Marinette collapsed to the ground, lowering herself into the seated position so she could breathe a little bit easier.

"Are you alright?" asked Robin, kneeling next to her. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"I'm okay. I didn't get hurt. I was just scared."

Robin got up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Why don't we get you back with the rest of your group. Are you here with your family?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm here on a school trip."

Robin walked Marinette over to her class, handing her off to Ms. Bustier, who let out a sigh of relief as she gently placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I know that was a very scary situation, Marinette. If you would like, I can take you and Alya back to the hotel."

"No way!" protested Marinette. "I didn't even get hurt. Plus, we have the walking tour of Gotham today. I don't want to miss it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Bustier glanced over toward Batman.

Batman joined the conversation, saying, "If Marinette prefers to continue her day as normal, then I would advise following Marinette's lead. Often, the best way to recover from an encounter with a villain is to go on with your life as normal."

Marinette nodded. "I want to stay with the rest of the class and go on with our day."

Ms. Bustier still looked hesitant but conceded anyway. "Alright. I think our tour of the Botanical Gardens is over, though. I doubt that they would let us continue, what with shattered glass all over the floors."

Liv led the group out of the building, commenting with a sigh, "It's a shame that Poison Ivy came and ruined the tour. The orchid garden is such an amazing exhibit, and now none of you will get to see it. Unless..." Liv glanced around. "There's no broken glass in the orchid garden, so I don't suppose why we couldn't leave the Botanical Garden through the side-exit past the orchid garden. What do you say, Marinette?"

Marinette smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

As the tour group turned to enter one of the hallways branching off of the main room, Marinette glanced behind her one last time. She made eye contact with Robin, who was watching her leave, an expression of wonder on his face. Marinette turned back around self-consciously rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't sure why Robin looked at her like that. It wasn't a look that one would give a stranger, and yet they had never met before. Marinette thought it was odd, but the thought was gone from her mind as soon as her class entered the orchid garden. I'm here in Gotham for a week to have fun, she reminded herself, so no more investigating every strange occurrence.

----------

The walking tour of Gotham was just as fun and informative as Marinette anticipated, packed with interesting facts and amazing sights. She got a bunch of high-quality pictures of Gotham, good for putting in the blog post that Marinette (as class president) was in charge of putting together to go on the school website. Best of all, Lila didn't bother her for the whole tour. Even Lila knew that she couldn't bully Marinette and get away with it, after what Marinette had been through the morning.

The sushi restaurant was amazing too. Marinette had eaten sushi a few times before, but never anything as high-quality as what was served in the restaurant. Marinette decided that if this was what a field trip funded by the Wayne Foundation was like, then she was incredibly excited for the week to come.

Aside from the unfortunate interruption at the Botanical Garden, the day was perfect. Yet, Marinette couldn't stop thinking about the strange look on Robin's face. Had she done something wrong? Was she really safe from Poison Ivy? The thoughts lingered in her head, pestering her every time she felt safe and content.

"Listen up, class!" called out Ms. Bustier. "You'll all have exactly two hours to explore East Hills Park. The firework show starts in approximately half an hour, and ends half an hour before you have to meet up here, which should give you plenty enough time."

Marinette followed Adrien, Alya, and Nino off the bus and into the park. The group of friends started to explore the park, stumbling upon the statues and fountains that were scattered about the grounds.

"I found another Wayne!" Nino shouted from a few meters away. "This statue was dedicated to Patrick Wayne, who was Mayor of Gotham City - this was before they changed the name to just Gotham - from 1896-1904. His most notable achievement from his time in office was that he built over thirty new schools and eleven new library buildings in the city. He was known for his dedication to educating the City of Gotham."

It had become an inside joke between the group to try and find as many things in Gotham named after the Waynes as they could. The task turned out to be much less difficult than they had anticipated, so the group quickly switched tactics and began looking up the various Waynes to see what they actually did with their lives, to determine whether they deserved their names on the various buildings and statues of Gotham.

"He actually sounds like he deserved a statue," said Adrien, looking down at his phone at the Wikipedia article he had pulled up. "Not like Augustus Wayne, who never had a job and gambled away nearly a quarter of the Wayne fortune, yet still has a bridge and a fountain in this park named after him."

Marinette chimed in, "My favorite is Georgiana Wayne. Apparently, a reporter was harassing her over the fact that she was a divorcee and Theodore Wayne was her second husband, and she told that reporter to, quote, 'Fuck off, you lousy son of a bitch. If my husband doesn't mind that I am a divorcee, I don't see why you should.'"

"I wonder if she has any statues in the park," said Alya.

"I doubt it. Her Wikipedia article is only four paragraphs long."

Alya frowned. "That's a shame. Augustus Wayne does nothing of importance with his life and gets a whole bridge named after him, but Georgiana Wayne is a total badass in the 1920s and gets nothing."

"We'll have to bring it up with Bruce Wayne at the fundraising Gala," joked Marinette.

"Good idea." Alya glanced down at her phone. "It's almost time for the fireworks show to start. According to the class groupchat, everyone is gathering on the south shore of the duck pond. There are benches there, and it should have a good view."

"I'll meet you guys there," said Marinette. "I just want to get a few more pictures before it gets too dark."

Marinette started taking pictures of the fountains and flowerbeds, wandering aimlessly through the park. She was busy getting the best angle to take a picture of a maple tree framed by the sunset when she bumped into someone walking behind her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Marinette began to apologize, but as soon as she recognized just who she bumped into she was at a loss for words. "Dick?"

"Marinette?" Dick's voice was deeper than Marinette remembered, yet still hauntingly familiar. His wide blue eyes stared into hers.

Marinette couldn't hold it together. She burst into tears, launching herself into his arms. "Dick, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your name on the news when they were reporting about Poison Ivy's vandalism at the Botanical Gardens. I did a little googling and found out about your class trip. It took a little digging into the Wayne Foundation website, but I found the approved itinerary for the trip and decided to track you down at East Hills Park. I knew I had to see you again."

"You did that for me?" Overhead the fireworks started going off, extravagant flashes of color that Marinette ignored completely. She couldn't tear her eyes off of Dick. When she imagined her reunion with him, she never really considered that he would be all grown up. No longer was Dick the twelve-year-old boy that Marinette remembered from her childhood. Dick was now five years older and sixteen inches taller.

"Of course I did. Marinette, I've missed you so much."

"I tried to get back in contact with you but Gotham's CPS refused to release any information to me. I kept calling and calling but they wouldn't tell me anything." The tears returned with a vengeance, and Marinette started to sob. "I gave up on finding you and I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame you. You have to know I don't blame you. It's me who should be apologizing. I could have tracked you down but I never did."

Marinette sniffled. "Why didn't you?"

"I was a coward." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Dick cut her off. "I was scared of losing another person I loved. I shut everyone out and by the time I was ready to let people in again, I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be a part of my life again."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Marinette.

"No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget you. It was stupid of me to think that I ever could in the first place. You were my best friend Marinette. You still are, if you'll have me."

Dick looked at her with such longing that Marinette knew she could never deny him. Her face softened. "Of course I will."

"Thank you." Dick held onto Marinette tighter.

Marinette closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. The fireworks show continued, bathing the park in beautiful colors, but Marinette felt no need to watch it. She knew that she already had the most beautiful thing in the park in her arms.

Taglist: @maribatmarch-2k21 @jayjayspixiepop @buginetye @ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #dickinette #maridick #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dick grayson #miraculous ladybug fic #my work #MaribatMarch2021

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

Your place Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (High School AU)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, bullying, degradation, dubcon.

Words: 1776.

Summary: You suffer in the arms of America’s golden boy, the one who has been bullying you for years.

Part 1

P.S. Some more smut, finally! All characters had reached 18 years of age. Hope you’ll enjoy!

______________

"Are you going to come on Saturday?"

Steve moved his hand down your naked belly, watching you laying close to him on your bed and breathing softly. You glanced back at him, his handsome features illuminated by the dim light coming from the lamp on your nightstand.

"Where to?" You asked as he covered the back of your hand with his palm twice bigger than yours.

"The field house. We have a game."

He traced your knuckles with his fingertips and you thought how odd Steve was. Who could have thought the school's biggest bully was such a cuddle-bug after sex? It wasn't bad, though. You actually liked this side of him.

"Sure."

You weren't interested much in basketball or any other sports, but it was easier to come rather then fight Steve again. He was stubborn like a mule. Besides, a part of you felt like you belong there - many of your classmates were coming to see almost every game.

Why did Steve care whether you were there or not? Surely, he had already been showing you off in front of everyone as much as he could as if you were his trophy - now you sat close to him in class and then in cafeteria during lunch time; he was dragging you with him after classes along with his stupid friends. The whole school knew the nature of your relationship, and the first weeks it was making you bitter and hateful. Steve Rogers head fucking forced himself on you, yet instead of sympathy all you got was an enormous amount of jealousy. You were still receiving hate mailes dropped into your locker. The girls kept whispering curses behind your back as you walked down the corridors with Steve and his pack of wolves. He was able to make everyone silent, though. Now even his friends had no right to bully you like before. He reserved it purely for himself.

"Did you buy yourself a dress?"

"What dress?" You blinked in confusion. "Do I need a dress on Saturday?"

Steve smiled at you and leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"No, kitten, I'm talking about the prom."

You rolled your eyes at his words. Of course, Steve Rogers needed to show off everywhere he possibly could - he definitely hoped to become prom king. You, on the contrary, didn't care much. In fact, you didn't want to come there at all. You hardly had any friends at school, and coming to watch Steve flashing his smile and basking in the rays of glory would only make you more irritated with him.

"No, I didn't."

"Then we could go together. I know one nice place."

"Where? 5th Avenue again?"

You smirked, watching the guy frown. Last time you went shopping together was a nightmare for you. You ended up with several bags of expensive lingerie Steve paid for, and you were disgusted at yourself for giving in to him. True, his family was twice wealtier than yours, but it didn't mean you wanted anything from him. Except for leaving you alone, that is.

"And what of it?" Rogers asked you sharply, rising above you. "If I want to buy you a dress, I will."

You sighed, turning your head to Steve and pulling your body closer against his. You learned to enjoy this intimacy with time as he taught you what making love to each other meant. You were pleasantly surprised at his efforts to make you feel good.

"Steve, please. I don't want to think of it now. It's... ruining the mood."

He purred as you caressed his blonde hair and snuggled closer to you, dropping little kisses to your face and touching your cheek affectionately. Steve loved being tender. You believed he had a real physical need to touch you one way or another, often without any sexual subtext at all. It was almost as bad as his need to bully you verbally, especially when he was aroused. You were still learning how to cope with that.

If only he didn't make those photos of you and him in the locker room that time. It was the only reason you obeyed him three months ago when he declared he wanted to keep you close. You didn't know if Steve had stored those pictures somewhere, but you weren't worried about them anymore. His obvious obsession with you would keep him from showing photos of you naked with his cock buried inside your wet cunt to the hilt. You could walk away now, yet everything wasn't as easy as before. Steve made sure to gain trust of your parents, pretending to be the perfect caring boyfriend to you and just a very good guy to everyone else. He also made you meet his parents who turned out to be surprisingly nice, nothing like their son. Steve's mother Sarah took an immediate liking to you and often sent you a huge piece of her famous raspberry pie. It was a highlight of your day when Steve handed it to you during lunch. If you broke up with him now, you were sure he'd make up some story where you were the one to blame, and it would make your life even more miserable.

"Why are we doing this, Steve?" You asked him quietly as he played with a lock of your shiny hair. When be looked back at you, you realized he knew what you were talking about.

"What do you mean?" He grunted in return.

"You know this can't last forever." You said, your voice tired. "There are only a few months left before the graduation."

You were still stroking his hair as he bit down on his plump lower lip, his eyes not leaving your face as he stared down at you from above. There was something unsettling in his gaze, something dark, even scary, but you refused to be afraid of his temper tantrums.

"We're applying to different colleges, and they're not close to each other. How do you think we can keep... this going?"

Steve struggled for words, and you saw he was getting frustrated. It was odd - he liked to use aggression as his shield, rarely showing his vulnerable side to anyone and barking off whatever accusation you threw at him. Yet here you were, looking at the guy who couldn't utter a word to answer a simple question.

Was it despair you saw on his pretty face?

"You can choose the same place, too."

"Are you joking? My family would have so sell our house to pay for my studies then." You let out a sigh.

"You can apply for a grant. With your grades it's not impossible."

"Steve, let's be realistic. You wanna go to Columbia University. Do you have any idea how many people are applying for a grant to study there?" You said and, seeing him getting more agitated, wrapped your hands around his muscular shoulders, reaching out to kiss him again.

He deepened the kiss immediately, swirling his tongue around yours and then licking the insides of your mouth when you mewled softly beneath him. The soft vibration against his lips made Steve shivered from pleasure. He spent a bit more time rolling the tip of his tongue all the way around yours and finally released you, dropping a kiss to your chin.

"If you can't make it, I'm going to apply to the same place as you." He whispered, and you felt his cock gradually getting harder. "I'm sure they'll be happy to take me."

"Steve, you're mad." You shaked your head. "What are your parents going to say? They want the best for y-"

"I don't care what they want, it's up to me to decide." The guy growled and bit your lower lip gently, lowering himself on top of you again. "You're my girl, and my girl is going with me. I still have those photos in case you forgot."

"Ah!"

You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers touched your overstimulated clit, rubbing it skillfully as you squirmed. Your mouth fell agape as you were left gasping for air, trapped under Steve's athletic figure. Moaning at his touch, you looked at him, feverish, getting aroused again, your hands caressing his back as he smiled at you. He loved when you were a blushing mess beneath him, crying out his name as you were orgasming. No one else got to see you like this.

"I know you were a good girl today, but I want some more. You can handle it, can't you?" The guy cooed in your ear. "Come on, kitten. Show me how you mewl with my cock inside you. You're gonna mewl for me, right? Do it. Now."

You did as he said when his fingers were slowely fucking your sloppy cunt, your core aching for his dick almost painfully. Mewling softly, you kissed him again, and Steve slammed into you, muffling your high-pitched cry with his mouth as he started rocking his hips. It felt so good, so fucking good. A wail of pleasure ripped from your throat, and Steve grinned at you.

"You're such a good little kitten, Y/N. I think next time we won't go to a restaurant, I'm just gonna give you a cat bowl full of my cum. You're gonna lick it clean, yeah? You're gonna do that for me, dear?"

"Yes, yesss, Steve." You whined as you felt your pussy kissing the base of his cock with a lewd sound. Panting and moving with Steve, you already felt one more orgasm building up, your mouth open and drooling. "I'm a good kitten, I'm a good kitten... pleaseplease Steeeeve..."

He groaned at your words, speeding up gradually and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head: he was rubbing against your g-spot to make your pussy milk his balls dry. Of, he fucking loved seeing that stupid expression on your face when you came, completely helpless, dependent on him to give you pleasure no one else could.

Steve was the one and only who could make you like this. Who the hell cared what his friends or parents said if he could hear you moaning his name beneath him whenever he liked? You were becoming more and more accepting, clinging to him when others were to mock you in public, spreading your legs for him when he cornered you in your or his own room. You grew to enjoy obeying him like a good girl you were, and Steve was going to keep you, finally, after all those long years of waiting.

He would make sure you never left his sight again.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @lovelydarkdaydream

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #yandere

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ratingtheframe · 4 years ago

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Why Armie Hammer’s Scandal Is More Than Kink Shaming

The 34 year old actor has had numerous allegations thrown his way this past month, from cannibalism to an obsession with BDSM. But do these allegations go beyond a widely accepted community of kink lovers and venture into deeply rooted misogyny?

Warning: this article contains mentions of cannibalism and sexual assault.

For those of you who aren’t aware of Armie Hammer’s presence on screen, you may be scratching your head and wondering what on earth people are talking about, seeing the cannibalism aspect to this all as face value without making the connection between Hammer’s past behaviours and current allegations. The actor who rose to prominence in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher’s The Social Network (2013) playing both of the Winklevoss twins, has become quite the favourite amongst the film industry. His role Oliver in Luca Guadagnino’s Call me by your name (2017) has sent Twitter into a permanent frenzy as memes and daily adoration for Chalamet and Hammer’s on screen romance continue to thrive even 4 years after the film's release. As well as Call me your name, Hammer is known for roles in Sorry to Bother You (2018), Rebecca (2020), On the Basis of Sex (2018) and soon to be released, Death on The Nile (2021). He currently has another film due to be released and a Call me by your name sequel in development. Sounds as if he’s got a lot going for him and despite him not being the biggest star to be churned out of Hollywood today, the recognition is still there and with that, he’s still being paid.

The Allegations

At the beginning of the year, an account emerged under the handle of @houseofeffie, that was created to expose some lurid and unpleasant communication between several women and Armie Hammer. Some of which he had relations with whilst married to his now ex wife Elizabeth Chambers. The nature of these dms are incredibly disturbing and worrying considering that Hammer not only has children but as an actor, spends a proportionate time around women.

These are just a few of the messages that were exposed that led the media to brandish Hammer as a “cannibal”:

Hammer:

“You are the god damned standard I hold women to in terms of kink and enjoyment of fucking the[n]...”

“I need to drink your blood, why the distance?” “...thinking of holding your heart in my head and controlling when it beats”

“I am 100% a cannibal...I want to eat you....Fuck...that’s scary to admit..”

“I’ve cut the heart out of a living animal before and eaten it while still warm”

“You were the most intense and extreme version [that I’ve ever had]. Raping you on the floor with a knife against you. Everything else seemed boring”

“You [were] crying and screaming, me standing over you. I felt like a god. I’ve never felt such power or intensity.”

“You just live to obey and be my slave”

“Would you come and be my property till you die? If I wanted to cut off one of your toes and keep it with me in my pocket so I always had a piece of you in my possession?”

“I want to see your brain, your blood, your organs, every part of you… I would definitely bite it...100%”

...O-kay. Lots to unpack here. First and fore mostly, I’d like to address the kink shaming element to all of this. I personally don’t see any harm in kinks, BDSM, pornography, as long as people are consenting and aren’t inflicting unsolicited pain upon people. Therefore, kink shaming and finding Hammer’s taste in sexual preferences isn’t what we are here to discuss. In fact when I first read the allegations, that wasn’t even my initially thought. CNN posted an article two days ago titled “Armie Hammer May Be Disturbed, But Is Shaming Him the Answer?” an opinion based article by Aaron Weaver that explores the allegations and believes Hammer shouldn’t be shamed for his kinks. But this begs the question whether Hammer was actually being shamed? I didn’t see much evidence for this seeing as people were mostly horrified by his taste in human flesh than anything else, a kink that is uncommon in the BDSM community and is only practiced by the most extreme.

Kinks aside, the most worrying thing about the DMs above is the way in which he views women and their bodies. It’s clear to see that he might not have much respect for women seeing as he proudly states his willingness to cut them up and drink their blood. And funnily enough, the sexual objectification of women’s bodies for one's own sexual pleasure without considering their comfortability is classed as misogyny. A reddit user made an extremely good point on a thread about Hammer’s scandal stating:

“To me, the problem is not that he’s into rough sex, or that he has kinks some people find scary. It’s not about yucking his yum, so to speak. I’m more concerned that he may have ignored safe words and pushed his partners beyond their limits. I feel like the media is focusing so much on his kinks and sexuality as opposed to his ignoring of consent, which is a complete and utter inversion of priorities”

Past Relationships

Another example of Hammer disrespecting the boundaries of women and sexual pleasure would be his past girlfriend Paige Lorenze. Lorenze is a 23 year model and former professional skier who has shone a light on Hammer’s worrying behaviour and his involvement in BDSM activity. The sources of Lorenze’s allegations are highly unreliable, which is one of the most frustrating things about this entire charade. The BBC BRIEFLY covered the fact that Hammer dropped out of his latest film amid the allegations, without fully going into detail about the allegations or the abuse subjected towards his former partners. It just goes to show we’re rubbish at taking abuse seriously enough to the point where people are punished for their wrongdoings. Had a more reliable news source covered this story, then it’d make it more viable to the public. Even though this scandal is in its early days, that doesn’t necessarily mean it's unimportant or should be swept under the rug along with the hundreds of other scandals that Hollywood refuses to expose.

Only the Daily Mail, The Sun and Page Six seem to have gone in depth with the accusations, making the entire story rather murky for the reader. Anyhow, Paige Lorenze said to the Daily Mail that Hammer had carved an ‘A’ above her groin without her consent and licked it whilst it bled. He had also reportedly tied her up and hit her with paddles to fuel his BDSM obsession and sexual desires. Lorenze was quoted saying 'Any man who is fantasizing about crushing bones, eating them, having sex with female limp bodies is a danger to all women'. Hammer insisted to Lorenze that his behaviour was normal, and that there was an entire community of people that carried out the same things he did on her. This is partially correct seeing as the global sex play market is worth over $30 billion, with practices in such activities dating back to the mid 19th century. However, the one thing the BDSM community doesn’t condone is not giving consent, which is where the fine line is drawn in between Hammer’s sexual preferences and the BDSM community. His choice to carve that ‘A’ into Lorenze isn’t backed up by a wider community of people who enjoy a variety of sexual pleasure. Lorenze claims he also DMed nude photos of her being tied up to people without her consent, further perpetuating Hammer’s lack of respect towards people’s boundaries. This is a serious incident, that sees someone with more power (Hammer is 6’5 and Lorenze is 5’6 btw) assert their dominance and by doing so, degrades and harms someone else. We shouldn’t be kink shaming Hammer, but shaming him for thinking that this behaviour is acceptable.

Hammer’s previous relationships can also draw some light into his lack of respect for women. He and his wife Elizabeth Chambers divorced in July 2020 after a decade of marriage. Though it's unknown what triggered the separation, these recent allegations may have something to do with it. Furthermore, two other women have come forward to express their distaste towards Hammer and his questionable fantasies. Entrepreneur and ex-girlfriend of Armie Hammer, Courtney Vucekovich, told Page Six that Hammer wanted to “break [her] rib and barbecue it and eat it”. She also expressed how easy it was for Hammer to charm his way through into getting women, especially young women into doing what he wants through “active manipulation and making you feel like he’s never felt this way about anybody.” Lorenze was also subjected to similar retort after reporting that Hammer too wanted to barbecue one of her ribs because she “didn’t need it”. Writer Jessica Ciencen Henriquez took to twitter last summer after a lunch date with Hammer and expressed that she had blocked him on Instagram. She later went on to tweet this:

“If you are still questioning whether or not those Armie Hammer DMs are real (and they are) maybe you should start questioning why we live in a culture willing to give abusers the benefit of the doubt instead of victims”

Exactly my point here. There’s not much to this scandal other than the fact that several people were hurt and undermined and someone else caused it. Someone who is societally above everyone because of their race, class, status and gender, with a well connected and dominant family support system.

His background and past

Hammer comes from a very powerful and wealthy family. Hammer’s great grandfather, Armand Hammer, was the chief executive officer and president of the Occidental Petroleum company founded in 1920. Now if you’re wondering the exact scale of such a company that is still running today, they are the 4th largest oil and gas acquisition in the entire world worth over $100 billion. ONE HUNDRED, BILLION, DOLLARS. Not all actors in Hollywood can say that their great-grandfathers were worth that much, which gives me little hope in seeing Hammer be held accountable for what he’s done. He was also kicked out of UCLA after apparently not “being able to do it”. Just another rich white male with enough power, malice and money to work his way around any struggle.

Now that we’ve established Hammer’s allegations, it’s worth looking back to see whether the signs of such behaviour were already prevalent in the numerous interviews he partook in over the years. Complex highlighted an episode of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert from 2017, where the host brought up Hammer’s obsession with knots, to which he laughed off and claimed that “knots make sense” that they are a “language” and referenced how man used knots before the wheel. Valid points but ones that are debunked in light of his interest in BDSM. during a 2013 interview with Playboy (appropriate) Hammer expressed that his “sexual appetites changed'' when he married his wife and that hair pulling used to be something he enjoyed but could no longer do now that he was married “even though he wanted to”. This is quite the backwards comment when we’re talking about respecting boundaries and it's clear to see it was only a matter of time before his desires could no longer be repressed.

Since this whole shit storm began to travel Hammer’s way, he has since dropped out of the film The Billion Dollar Spy, which would’ve seen him star alongside Jennifer Lopez. BBC News reported that this move was made as Hammer stated that “I cannot in good conscience now leave my children for four months to shoot a film in the Dominican Republic” following the ‘vicious’ online abuse he’s been subjected to. Hammer was again put in the firing line by Grand Cayman law enforcement for lying about a woman provocatively shown in a video was Miss Cayman of the Miss Cayman beauty pageant that’s held on the island. He and the woman were warned for their misconduct and had confirmed the matter is now closed.

Final Thoughts

There are enough red flags in Hammer’s behaviour to open up a flag store, and I would go as far as to say that this isn’t the end of it. For someone who’s grown up having the majority of things they want, it's easy to want more beyond morality and despite the discomfort of others. Hammer’s move to drop out of his latest film was an attempt to lessen the blow of hate being turned towards him as opposed to the benefit of those he’s hurt. So far, him and his lawyer have denied all allegations and further action hasn’t been taken against the Hollywood star. He’s apologised for the DMs and brandished his actions a “foolish attempt at humour”.

Wrapping his own behaviour up in humour is an attempt to detract from the severity of the behaviour itself, whilst excusing it, something he can get away with because of his status.

Major media outlets haven’t done much in even attempting to expose this man’s behaviour and have left it up to unreliable sources to piece together the true persona of Armie Hammer. Though innocent until proven guilty, common sense is widely available to the general public meaning we should be delving into the past a little and comparing it to these allegations. Along with Hammer’s character, family and unnerving Instagram posts of cutting up meat and eating raw steak, there doesn’t seem to be much in the actor’s favour.

All I would say is as a director, producer, writer or actor, would you feel comfortable in being associated with someone who believes they're a cannibal and marvels at the idea of drinking human blood? Or someone who goes as far to objectify women to the point where they become nothing but sexual fulfilment and pieces of meat?

That’s all I’ll say and those who do feel comfortable doing such a thing means that Hammer may still have a career at the end of the day. One point to Hollywood, no points to political correctness and respecting women.

#armiehammer #call me by my name #actors #hollywoodmovies #paige lorenze

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hunxi-guilai · 5 years ago

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Hey, I have two questions. First, I saw an ask that said you had reblogged a “dark SiZhui” post and I’ve been trawling your blog looking for it because I can’t imagine what that looks like, but I have to get back to work. Can you link it? My other question is that I just read a post where you say that Song Lan and Jin Ling “prefer” to go by their birth names. Can you talk about that a little bit, and what it would mean if Jiang Cheng does too, with his rank as sect leader? I assumed that 1/2

(found dark!Sizhui via a combination of my tags ‘mdzs fanart’ and ‘Lan Sizhui,’ here you go!)

ahh, I’m eating my words today, because another anon popped into my inbox with some very good points about your questions!

In my haste to answer asks, I completely forgot that courtesy names are often linked to age (which, historically has been age 20 for men, but another anon who’s actually read the novel mentioned maybe seeing the author mention something about everyone getting their courtesy name at 15 in the CQL world), in which case, Jin Ling is either 1) not old enough to have his courtesy name, or 2) just barely old enough to use his courtesy name. Anon up in the screenshot also points out very good in-character reasons for both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling to put their respective feet down on going by a courtesy name that evil incarnate, Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian selected.

Again, a lot of the courtesy name/personal name worldbuilding in CQL is pretty nebulous (let’s be real what part of worldbuilding in CQL ISN’T nebulous, my Brandon Sanderson main blog is crying), so it’s difficult to say there are hard-and-fast rules about what you’re allowed to do with the dynamic between personal and courtesy names. My guess was that Song Lan preferred to use his personal name -- Xiao Xingchen introduces him with it, he doesn’t object to anyone else using it, and his courtesy name ‘Zichen’ is kind of a special name shared between just Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan.

w/r/t to whether or not Jiang Cheng (or any other character) could choose to go by their personal names rather than courtesy names in public society is kind of up in the air; I find it hard to imagine that people would actively be like “uh, no, I’m going to keep calling you by your courtesy name” (unless it’s like, Lan Xichen or Lan Wangji, who are both Brought Up Right and it would physically pain them to be less polite than normal) if Jiang Cheng were like “skip the courtesies, just call me Jiang Cheng.” That being said, I’m limited by my imagination; maybe that’s totally off-base.

A lot of these cultural/tonal questions about when to use personal/when to use courtesy names are difficult to answer because courtesy naming was a practice that was phased out during the 20th century (shout-out to the Cultural Revolution, except no, that wasn’t nice, anti-shout-out to the Cultural Revolution) and isn’t widely used in modern society anymore.

what might be an interesting case study in the opposite direction (someone choosing to go as exclusively by their courtesy name as possible) might be Lan Wangji -- I think Wei Wuxian is the only one who calls him Lan Zhan (but boy does he yell Lan Wangji’s personal name a lot), whereas Lan Xichen, y’know, the closest person to Lan Wangji in existence, calls his brother ‘Wangji.’ Is this a personal Lan Wangji preference thing, or a Gusu Lan politeness thing? Alas, we’ll never know, because there are no rules in this world rip MXTX please

(this post is a general follow-up to these two posts)

#ask and ye shall receive #name kerfufflery #always anti-shout out the Cultural Revolution #I still want a courtesy name though where can I get one

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sharinluna · 5 years ago

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Love and Producer(MLCQ) Kiro Kiss Date Translation

Copy pasting my translation from Reddit.

Kiro's Kiss Date is a future karma but the timeline of the date is assumed to be during chapter 12 before Kiro announces his retirement. So I'm posting my translation based on KR text. I translated about 80% and tried to keep to the original Korean text as possible, but took liberty to paraphrase some sentences to make it sound more natural in English.

Also, MC’s name is Yōurán because that is the unofficial default CN name.

Star Cluster Date

I underestimated Savin’s work as Kiro’s agent. It was just as, no, harder than my job as a producer. I went over the schedule again, checking each item with my finger one by one.

Yōurán: 9:30 is rehearsal, then we have to try on the stage costumes, then to the concert… oh no! I screwed up!

Kiro: Screwed up what?

Just then Kiro slided next to me and glanced at my notepad, then he sighed in an exaggerated manner.

Kiro: How cruel, Yōurán! You didn’t even give me time to eat!

Yōurán: That’s why I yelled “I screwed up…” But we still have time to order some takeout…

Kiro: But I was looking forward to a lunch you cooked out of love!

He pursed his lips and began to torture my conscience with puppy eyes. In the yellow light, his eyes looked even more pitiful. He must have practiced making that face!

Yōurán: All right, all right… Today is late, but how about tomorrow?

Kiro: That’s a promise. I knew you would care for me! I hope you become my one and only agent from now on.

Yōurán: Savin will be upset when he hears that…

Although I said that, my heart was fluttering. If I could continue being Kiro’s agent… My thoughts went back to the day Kiro barged into my house in the middle of the night to ask me about this.

Kiro: For real! Just for a week!

I wanted to help him of course, but I couldn’t readily accept this kind of offer right away!

Yōurán: But… I have never worked as an agent before, do you really want me to? You must know other people who are more experienced in this job.

Kiro: But there’s no point if it’s not you.

I couldn’t say no to his insisting. Truth was, I was also eager to accept this offer.

Yōurán: Okay, I’ll do it.

As soon as I answered I heard a yell through the receiver. I began to feel excited as well.

Kiro: Great! Get ready because I’m going to your house in 30 minutes!

Yōurán: What, now?! What’s all the hurry?

Kiro: There was a change of plan, my friend wants to start practicing tomorrow. Why else would I bother you like this in the middle of the night?

Yōurán: But like you said, your schedule is tomorrow… why do I have to start tonight?

Kiro: To get to know each other more intimately, of course. For an entire week we have to be the best of partners sharing our daily schedule from meals to transportations.

Wait, was this also part of an agent’s job? So, I have to stick to Kiro every moment of the week?

And he really took me along everywhere he went for the following week. But I did little to manage his schedules as a celebrity. It felt more like I was getting to see his world that I have never seen before.

Even without my clumsy help he was already the perfectly radiant sun. Whether it was rehearsals or social relations, he managed his affairs meticulously. I doubted whether he needed me as his agent in the first place.

Yōurán: You can manage yourself just fine without my help, right?

Kiro: Don’t lower your worth like that.

His answer was serious. I could faintly smell his sweat that still remained from his rehearsal as he came closer. His voice lower than usual surrounded me. I could feel heat emanating between us.

Kiro: I wouldn’t know what to do without you.

Yōurán: But I didn’t do anything…

Kiro: You’re next to me, that’s all I need.

Kiro: Do you think it’s childish, wanting to show only your best side to someone you like?

He looked softly at me. Underneath the light his eyes were like honey, sweet and profound.

My head was filled with his words “someone you love”. I couldn’t find my voice, so I shook my head to tell him that no, I did not think it was childish. Which he must have found funny because he laughed out loud. His hair tickled my neck as he shook with laughter but I couldn’t push him away.

Kiro: Haha, look at you all worked up.

Yōurán: It’s because you’re suddenly being all mushy…

Kiro: Then, get used to it from now on…

He pulled me into his arms and his continued confessions conquered my ear, defeating all coherent thoughts left.

Kiro: I love you… I love you, Yōurán… I love you the most in the world…

(like 好きだ in Japanese, 좋아하다 in Korean means “like”, but it can also mean “love”. So Kiro and MC are repeating the same word but the meaning slowly changes from “like” to “love”.)

His hand was supporting the back of my neck, preventing me from escaping the sweet whirlpool that I was slowly drowning in. My hands landed on his shirt after not knowing where to go, and his palm covered them warmly.

Kiro: If I ever leave…

He was whispering next to my ear, but I felt like I could hear him from a thousand miles away. I hugged this sensitive, lonely soul without knowing what would happen in the future.

I knew that his “leaving” meant something serious, but I felt like I should inquire like everything was normal.

Yōurán: Are you leaving the country again? How long are you going to be gone this time?

A short pause passed, then he resumed his playful way of talking.

Kiro: Yes. I’m going somewhere very, very far, and will be gone for a very, very long time. You’d better not sob your heart out for me because you miss me. (He is saying “sob/sniffle” but in the sense of “crying like a little kid.” I don’t know which is the most appropriate, sob? wail? bawl? sniffle? whine?)

Yōurán: I’m not going to! I’m not a child!

Kiro: But I’m going to.

Kiro: So, will you promise me? That you won’t forget me if I’m gone.

I had so many things I wanted to say to him, but I had to accept that there must be a reason he was like this. So I nodded firmly, then he laughed lightly and our foreheads touched. It somehow felt like a farewell.

Since that day, he never once brought up anything about “leaving.” It felt like I was worrying for no good reason. I didn’t know where the “somewhere very far” was, nor did I know how long was “a very long time”.

Two days later, I heard him talking to someone on the phone in the dressing room. The voice was him, but I’ve never heard him sounding so cold like that.

Kiro: …………more time……... ………after I leave…………

The way he spoke reminded me of what he said earlier, and I couldn’t ignore it. My head told me to walk past, to not concern myself with this. Everyone has a side they don’t want others to know, and Kiro was no exception. But concern that was growing bigger in the silence made me go toward the door.

While I was hesitating, the door – which turned out to be unlocked – pushed open by itself. Kiro hurriedly ended his call when he heard me. His face was calm just as always.

Kiro: What’s up? Are they looking for me?

Yōurán: Umm… no, I was just…

My eyes landed on his phone before I could come up with an excuse. His eyes followed suit and glanced at his phone, then he gave a sigh full of meaning and approached me. The sharp way he held himself made me take a few steps back, but I couldn’t escape the flick on the forehead.

Yōurán: Oww!!

Kiro: It’s bad habit to eavesdrop on people.

Yōurán: I wasn’t… I was just passing by and happened to…

Kiro: That’s not good either. I can tell by your face. You heard everything right?

Yōurán: But I really didn’t….

Kiro: That was classified information. What should I do with you now?

Yōurán: I will never tell anyone!

Kiro: You’d better, or else…

His always bright and cheerful eyes narrowed to emit a threatening atmosphere. I was suddenly reminded of the “You know too much, I’ll have to kill you.” scenes in movies. I felt a shiver in my back.

What was he hiding? What did this have to do with his “leaving”? Was he in this willingly? Or did he get caught into this without a choice? If the latter was the case, he must be facing a really difficult predicament. What should I do to help him then?

Having reached this thought, my desire to help him get over this drove away my fear. Making my decision, I spoke from my heart.

Yōurán: Your phone call… does that have to do with your “leaving”? If you could let me help…

…then could you stay? Instead of going someplace far away from here?

But my words were interrupted by his sudden burst of laughter.

Kiro: Hahaha! You got it very wrong!

Yōurán: But you said something about leaving on the phone…

He laughed even more harder when he heard my words. He laughed so hard that tears were hanging on his long lashes.

Kiro: That was my line from the new movie I’m going to shoot. I was acting as an emotionless killer. I was practicing on my own, but I had no idea that you were listening.

Yōurán: And the classified information thing…?

He motioned exaggeratedly to be quiet. The icy atmosphere was long since gone, everything was warm and bubbly again.

Kiro: Shh… Of course it’s classified. It’s not even announced to the public yet! Savin won’t let me hear the end of it if he knows. So you have to keep it a secret!

So everything was concluded as his impromptu prank.

Yōurán: You should have told me earlier.

Kiro: Sorry, sorry! But you should have seen your face! I just had to tease you a bit.

Yōurán: Thanks to you, I’ll probably get “The Best Reaction Award”.

Kiro: Then I, Kiro, will award Miss Chips “The Best Reaction of the Year”!

He went along with my bad joke in a witty way.

Before I could say anything further, he removed the pendant from his neck. One could immediately tell how much it meant to him. His lips held the silver pendent, giving it a kiss, then he continued his speech.

Kiro: Will Miss Chips kindly come up to the stage to receive her award?

Then he placed his pendant on my neck like it was a medal. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin on my neck and I held my breath. I thought he would take the necklace back after he was done joking, but he clasped the chain and stepped back.

Kiro: Keep it safe for me while I’m not around.

Yōurán: Wait! This necklace means so much to you! I can’t have something like this!

Kiro: That’s why I’m putting it in your care.

He stroked the pendant with utmost care, a forlorn look appeared on his face for the shortest moment.

Kiro: I’ll have you again when I come back.

I didn’t know whether he was talking to the pendant, or to me whose hand was still caught by his.

And did my heart feel like it was being teared apart because I knew he was leaving? Or was it something else?

My one-week experience as Kiro’s agent was about to end. And the show was about to start. Kiro did his best to ensure that this show was perfect. The show started at night, but he'd begun preparations since morning. He was always ready to help the staff with a welcoming smile.

Under the spotlight, with the stage and music, he will always be a star. But seeing him like this only made me fear more about his leaving.

If Kiro the sun leaves, what should they do – the crowds cheering for him under the stage?

What should I do?

My thoughts were thrashing and turning as I listened to his music. I clutched the bouquet for him tighter.

What stance should I take when I give this bouquet to him? As his one-week agent? As his ardent fan? Or….. as Yōurán, who doesn’t wish to see him go.

Before I could find the right answer, the show ended with thunder-like applause. The audience kept shouting for an encore.

Kiro: Do you have anything to give me?

I held the bouquet out to him, my hands still shaking from all the excitement. He was smiling tenderly like always, but his eyes held so intense an emotion.

Kiro: The flowers are really cute. But that’s not what I want.

Yōurán: Oh, don’t you like them…?

Kiro: I like them. But what I want right now is…. you.

He reached his hand out and pulled backed the clothes hanging above me, and trapped me inside the narrow space.

His bangs brushed my nose as the abrupt kiss landed on my lips. His tongue pushed inside roughly and hastily. I put my hands against his chest but couldn’t find it in me to push him away.

I could hear the fans shouting for an encore not far away, but their din faded out in my ears. All I could hear were us breathing heavily. Our breaths entangled drinking in each other, and I was out of oxygen. I felt dizziness and couldn’t think anything. I could only open my mouth wider and thirst for more like a fish out of water. He held himself while checking my response, then moved in deeper to meet my craving. It felt like my every cell was getting infected by him. I couldn’t keep myself from getting closer to his body, wanting, asking for more.

We forgot that we were at the backstage with the crowds waiting behind, until we heard his friend looking out for him.

Friend: What about Kiro? Where is he? He was right next to me just a moment ago.

Yōurán: They’re looking for you!

He released me reluctantly, then he leaned down to kiss the pendant on my neck.

Kiro: Next time, it might be you who have to find me. No matter how far and long I’m gone, it’s up to you to find me.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Yōurán(MC) already knows that something's going on, but she chooses to go along with Kiro and pretends that nothing wrong is happening. But they both know that their time together is about to end soon.

#mlqc #mlqc spoiler #mlqc kiro #love and producer #mlqc translation

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hangjie · 6 years ago

Text

speak now. [ finn wolfhard ]

anonymous: hey, could i request a finn w. x reader based off of taylor swifts song called 'speak now' ? <3 thank u

summary: aged up!finn is getting married to someone horrible

warnings: swearing and arranged marriages

word count: -

author’s note: oof this song brings me back to when i was 9 years old HAHAHAHAH. literally thought of doing this as a present day!finn going on a date instead of aged up!finn’s wedding lmao. this is so bad and took me so long to write oof i’m sorry, anon ;((

not a traditional wedding in a church, but the wedding takes place in the backyard of finn’s house btw! (i didn’t use a gif of finn bc it weirded me out that i was writing a imagine about an aged up 16 year old’s wedding heheheheh sorrry)

─── • ° *｡✧ ───

i am not the kind of girl

who should be rudely bargin' in on a white veil occasion,

but you are not the kind of boy

who should be marryin' the wrong girl.

never in my life have i seen a situation where someone barges in someone else’s wedding. i’ve only seen those in movies, never in real life.

who knew that i would be that person barging in on my boyfriend’s wedding.

it sounds messed up, i know, but to make the long story short, finn’s manager forced him to marry the girl he’s been dating for publicity.

fucked up, right? but it’s not my choice and his manager threatened him if he didn’t do it.

i should remind finn to get himself a new manager next time.

so, here i am, outside of finn’s room, where he is preparing for his big day. i take a deep breath before i knock on the door softly. seconds later, finn’s head pops out and his eyes brighten when he sees me.

after he lets me in, i am immediately engulfed in a tight hug. i sigh and wrap my arms around his torso as his arms circle my waist. i breathe in his scent and i feel my eyes water as the thought of someone else in his arms comes into my mind.

when we pull away from each other, his hands cups my cheek, brushing away the tears that have escaped my eye using his thumb. “don’t cry, (y/n).”

“how can i when my boyfriend marrying someone else?” i sob.

“(y/n), you know that i have no choice and this isn’t my decision.”

“but still, you’re marrying her.”

finn presses his forehead against mine and brings our bodies closer, his brown eyes staring right into my (y/e/c) ones.

“but i love you, not her.” i take a deep breath, closing my eyes. when i open them, there are tears brimming in both of our eyes.

the moment between us is broken when a knock is heard on his door.

“finn?” i hear the voice of his mom from the other side of the door. our faces turn pale and he pushes me into his closet when the door knob starts turning. i manage to get into the closet before his mom enters the room, making me sigh in relief.

“are you ready?”

i open the closet the tiniest bit, enough for me to be able to see what’s happening outside. i see him sigh in relief when his mom doesn’t notice that i’ve been in the room.

his mom approaches him, a sad smile playing on her lips. “my boy is getting married.” she approaches him and fixes his tie and collar with teary eyes. finn looks down at the ground, sadly. his mom places her hand on his cheek, making him lean into her touch. “i know that you want her to be (y/n), but if you both really love each other, you both have to be patient.�� finn’s mom wraps her arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a comforting hug.

“we’ll break our contract soon. don’t worry.”

she kisses his forehead before reminding him to be ready soon and leaving the room.

as soon as finn’s mom is gone, i come out of the closet and place my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. he looks down at me sadly before wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

“i wish it was you up on that altar,” he says against my hair. i press my ear against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. “soon, my love. it’ll be me as soon as your contract breaks.”

when he pulls away, he presses a loving yet passionste kiss. i feel my tears slip from my eye and roll down my cheeks.

we pull away from each other and i quietly say, “i love you. i’ll be back soon,” before leaving his room.

i sneak in and see your friends

and her snotty little family, all dressed in pastel

and she is yelling at a bridesmaid,

somewhere back inside a room,

wearing a gown shaped like a pastry.

as i walk through the hallway of finn’s house, i hear yells and the sound of glass breaking from a nearby room, sparking my curiosity.

i walk towards the direction of the room and peek through the small crack of the door. before i could open it and ask the person if they’re okay, i notice the puffy white dress and the blonde mop of hair wearing a long veil.

i back away from the door and lean against the wall beside the door frame, making sure that nobody inside the room saw me from outside.

“what the hell is this?! you call this a fucking braid?” i hear the voice of finn’s ‘bride to be’, mackenzie (a/n: i literally just googled ‘most hated girl names’ okay don’t come for me hdsjsksksj). before anyone could answer her, i hear glass shattering, making the hairs on my neck stand in fear that she hurted someone.

i peek in and see one of her bridesmaids looking at her apologetically, picking up the shards of glass from the ground as mackenzie towers over her, fuming with rage.

mackenzie opens her mouth to shout more at her bridesmaid, but gets cut off by her mother who was dressed in a pastel green dress.

oh Lord, help me.

“mackenzie, that’s enough. you don’t want to waste all your energy on something useless.” she rolls her eyes at the bridesmaid whose eyes were glassy because of her incoming tears.

“but mom, she’s ruining my wedding—“ her mom sends her a look of impatience and annoyance, making her shut up.

her mom approaches her and fixes the veil on her head. “shush now, child. you don’t want that your groom to hear your tantrum now, do you?” mackenzie snickers mockingly. “why would i care for that ‘wolfhard’ boy, mom? i don’t even love him.”

“yes, but he has money and fame, mackenzie. you do want to become famous, don’t you?”

i can feel my blood boiling inside of me and i try my best not to barge in and slap mackenzie and her mother.

mackenzie nods and says, “yes, my dreams of being a celebrity are getting closer and it’s all thanks to you, mom.” she embraces her mother in a hug and manages to despite her wedding dress getting in the way. “i’m glad that you slept with his manager, mom.”

no fucking wonder.

i take a deep breath, letting myself calm down before i walk away from the scene.

like what mackenzie’s mom said, ‘you don’t want to waste your energy on something useless.’

i continue to walk through the hallway, mumbling profanities and stomping in anger from the scene between mackenzie and her mom. i forgot about my plan of keeping a low profile until i hear someone call me from behind.

“(y/n)? is that you?” i turn around and come face-to-face with nick, finn’s older brother. i run to nick and immediately wrap my arms around his torso, him returning the gesture.

“nick, i cannot take it anymore. i don’t want finn to marry that bitch,” i say against his chest. i feel him stroking my hair in comfort and shushing me.

“it’s okay, (y/n).”

“no. it’s not okay, nick! finn is going to marry that bitch face, mackenzie and i can’t do anything about it.” i cry against his chest, possibly making his suit damp with my tears, but neither of us cared.

we continue like that until we hear the voice of finn and nick’s mom call for him and that the wedding is about to start. “shit,” he curses under his breath. “i gotta go, (y/n),” nick sadly says. we pull away from each other and bid each other goodbye.

before nick could disappear downstairs, he turns back to me and says, “i really wish that you were the one up on the altar.”

i smile sadly at him and say, “that’s what finn also said.” nick returns the sad smile and goes downstairs, leaving me standing in the hallway with a million thoughts running inside my head.

fond gestures are exchanged

and the organ starts to play

a song that sounds like a death march

and i am hiding in the curtains

it seems i was uninvited by your lovely bride-to-be.

she floats down the aisle like a pageant queen,

but i know you wish it was me.

you wish it was me, don't you?

it took me a while to decide whether or not to stay at the wedding and in the end, i hid myself behind some bushes in finn’s backyard. thankfully, nobody noticed me sneaking in and the bushes are large enough to cover me.

the sound of an organ playing ‘here comes the bride’, convinces me to peek from the side and i see mackenzie and her father starting to walk down the aisle.

she sways her non-existent hips from side to side and unlike the traditional slow walk, she rushes towards finn who looks at her with distress.

i gag at the sight of her winking at finn and just the sight of her so called ‘acting’ alone makes me want to bash my head with a fucking rock.

i can see tears rolling down the cheeks of finn as he stares at mackenzie who is smiling from ear to ear and my heart aches, knowing that he’s imaging that it’s me instead of her, but instead, i’m here, hiding behind a bunch of bushes.

“my dear friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union between finn wolfhard and mackenzie williams.”

this is going to be a long day.

i hear the preacher say,

"speak now or forever hold your peace.”

there's a silence, there's my last chance.

i stand up with shaking hands.

all eyes on me.

after an hour and a half, the wedding is nearing to an end. i can feel my heart racing as the ‘speak now’ part of the wedding nears.

“if anyone objects, speak now or forever hold your peace. any reason any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now,” the preacher says (a/n: i don’t know if this is the actual line in a wedding bc i’ve literally only been to two weddings).

this is it. this is my chance.

i begin to stand up and right before i could speak up, mackenzie says, “oh, look. no one’s objecting. come on, let’s get on with the wedding—“

“i object!”

horrified looks from everyone in the room,

but i’m only lookin' at you.

everyone’s attention turns to me and most of the guests have surprised looks on their faces. well, at least, in mackenzie’s side.

my eyes scan the faces of finn’s family and friends are most of them are smiling in relief and are quietly cheering me on, motivating me.

i take a deep breath before i say, “that’s my boyfriend! mackenzie is only marrying finn for fame and money and his manager only allowed this to happen because he slept with mackenzie’s mom!” everyone gasps and flickers their gazes between mackenzie and her family.

mackenzie screams and throws her bouquet of flowers on the ground, shouting, “fucking bitch! you ruined my goddamn wedding!” her face is red with anger and starts throwing more insults and cusses at me, but everything is a blur to me because i’m only focused on finn.

finn sighs in relief and looks at me with so much love and adoration in his eyes.

my thoughts are interrupted when finn grabs my wrist and drags me away from his backyard and out of his house.

we are giggling like children and he stops in front of his car, digging his pocket for his keys. once he finds them, he opens the car door on my side and lets me in. he goes around the car and slides in, turning the car engine on.

“finn, where are we going?” i ask, turning towards him. he only smiles and says, “far away,” before driving out of town.

and you say, "let's run away now.

i’ll meet you when i’m out of my tux at the back door.

oh baby, i didn't say my vow.

so glad you were around when they said, "speak now.”

the sea breeze fans my face and cools my heated body as the rays of the sun illuminate the sea waves from below the cliff.

i readjust my position on the hood of finn’s car and i lean my head against his shoulder, snuggling closer to him as his arm wraps around my body tightly.

“i’m so glad that you got me out of that hell hole,” finn says, making the both of us chuckle. “of course. i couldn’t let you get married to that witch of a bride.”

“yeah. i can’t even stand being a few feet away from her. let alone marry her.”

“it’s a shame that you wasted a pretty good suit though,” i say, fixing his collar.

“who said that i was going to put this to waste?”

i look at him in confusion until finn gets down on one knee in front of me and pulls out a ring from his pocket.

“(y/n), i know that we literally just ran away from a wedding and i know that you’re tired with all the wedding bullshit, but i nearly got married off to someone else and i couldn’t help but see you as my bride, not mackenzie.” tears prickle my eyes and start rolling down my cheeks. “(y/n), i love you so damn much and i want to be with you forever. so, will you do the honor of making me the happiest man on earth and become my wife?”

i jump down from the hood of his car and hug him, shouting “yes!” repeatedly. finn chuckles, sending vibrations between us.

when we pull away from each other, he slips the ring into my finger, letting it shine and sparkle in the sunlight.

finn places a hand on my cheek, making me lean into his touch. he smiles at me and says, “i’m so glad you were around when they said “speak now”.”

“stop quoting taylor swift and just kiss me already.”

finn chuckles and doesn’t waste a second pressing his lips against mine.

MASTERLIST

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echodrops · 6 years ago

Note

Hot wings(Dabihawks)?

I actually answered this one just a second ago, but it occurred to me that maybe it would be better to separate the post since combining multiple fandoms in the same post might distract people. So here’s Hawks/Dabi by itself!

Hawks/Dabi Hot Wings:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE PAIRING HEROES AND VILLAINS??? Because I love pairing heroes and villains!! I love pairing foes on opposite sides together so much that I could probably just make a living talking about all my favorite foe yay ships.

Honestly, I actually shipped this as a crack ship from day one based on the ridiculous name they got here on tumblr, and I had no issues shipping it even before there was actual canon interaction, just because that’s how much I love heroes and villains, BUT THEN THEY GOT AN ON-SCREEN PRIVATE CONVERSATION SCENE (poor Shigaraki hasn’t even gotten one of those with Dabi yet lmaoooo) and it was all over for me.

Let it be known that if there is one type of character I like more than any other type of character, any other archetype, any other model or role in a story–I love, beyond life itself, double agent characters. They’re just a breeding ground for all the things I love absolutely most in terms of angst and drama: a terrible conviction to do what’s right, inevitably clashing against their growing understanding for the beliefs of the opposite side, the livewire of danger threaded through every one of their scenes, the tense moments, never knowing when the disguise will falter–worse, the constant questioning undercurrent of whether or not the mask might become real… The delicious tension just makes my heart race in any good double agent scene I come across, and Hawks is no exception. He is in so, so, so much danger and you can tell he wants to do what’s right, he wants to help people, but his own past and feelings about the responsibility forced on to him because of his role as the number two hero might leave him amiable or at least more susceptible to the League’s message that hero society is deeply flawed and needs to be over-turned. Hawks is a good boy who will do what’s right–but is his definition of “right” really completely aligned with the hero system as it exists today? There’s so much room for villain sympathizing here…

Not to mention the whole question of whether or not Dabi is a Todoroki. I can’t really see Hawks’ entanglement with both Dabi and Endeavor as anything but yet another sign that Dabi is Touya–what would even be the point of revealing that Hawks was an Endeavor fan as a child if not for that admiration to one day be dramatically and horrifically destroyed? It feels as if this whole thing is being very carefully and deliberately set up: Horikoshi put the Endeavor fan hero directly into contact with Dabi, whom most of us speculate to be one of the worst victims of Endeavor’s truly villainous behavior, hidden from the public and fellow heroes alike. Dabi’s goal seems like it might increasingly be to get his revenge not only on Endeavor but on all of the uncaring, status-quo hero society that turned a blind eye to Endeavor’s cruelty–in that vein, Hawks would be one of the people that Dabi hates the very most… Because the thing that Hawks like best about Endeavor is the EXACT THING that turned Endeavor into an abusive monster.

Hawks admires that Endeavor was brave/foolhardy/determined enough to pursue the spot of number one while all the other heroes just rested on their laurels, content to remain in All Might’s shadow. Hawks seems, to me, like a multi-layered character: on one level, he seems ambivalent or even contemptful of heroism and the hero-ranking scales that puts someone like him, who was groomed for the job, so high up. He says he wants to take it easy, not have to fight, and that he would prefer to be lower in the ranks so he’d be free to mess around. However, we also know that he is probably one of the most hard-working young heroes in all of Japan, that he rose up the ranks because of his own actions, that he’s beloved of the public, and that he’s willing to put his own life on the line, utterly heedless of his own safety, if it means that others can remain good, unsullied people. He says one thing (I want to take it easy), but does another (never stops working) and deep down, what he admires most is Endeavor’s conviction to never settle, to never accept being anything less than the best. It seems, to me, that Hawks probably has some internalized issues regarding his role as a hero–likely he feels that he was given something he didn’t deserve, fast-tracked on the road to success he didn’t earn, perfectly trained and groomed to become a hero-idol, packaged and marketable for maximum public appeal. Externally, he claims he doesn’t care about the ranks; internally, he fears that he doesn’t have the conviction or strength to be like Endeavor, who never gave up in pursuing his goal to become number one, who was never swayed by others’ actions, who never wavered from his personal path. To Hawks, who has lived his whole life at the behest of others, someone like Endeavor, who dedicated his entire existence to chasing a purely personal dream, is probably the very definition of “true hero.”

Which is going to make it so awful, so painful if/when Hawks finds out that Endeavor chose to live for his own dream at the cost of his innocent family. It’s highly likely that Dabi is who he is because of Endeavor’s dream to surpass All Might which Hawks so admired. The League is a group of broken people, victimized to various degrees and in various manners by the world around them. Dabi is likely no exception (and in fact might be one of the most direct examples of heroes being just as capable of causing pain and suffering as villains). The angst potential this idea has just gives me so much life… Imagining the shock and horror Hawks will go through after finding out that his hero is a horrible person who ruined the lives of his wife and children just to further his pointless goal fills me with a sense of tingly excitement. I love seeing all my favorites suffer. XDDD It’s just so darkly poetic…

Friendly reminder that these panels are all on the same page in the manga… I love my dramatic sons…

The idea that Hawks is poised in the perfect spot to be one of the first–if not the first–to find out that Dabi is Touya Todoroki… and for Hawks to have his positive view of his role model, as well as his tacit approval for all of hero society, utterly destroyed by that reveal is just so interesting to me. It’s a rare situation in which the reveal of one character’s back story has the power to completely change the fate and future of another character–but the way things are set up right now, if the Dabi is a Todoroki theory is true, his back story reveal could completely change Hawks’ behavior and role in the plot. Right now, Hawks’ “Everything I do is for the League” is totally fake. But if Hawks finds out what went down with Endeavor and Touya and it was as traumatic as we all like to imagine… Well, who knows what course Hawks might take then. (Worse, an even more fun imagining: if Hawks goes sniffing for information and maybe finds out the hero commission helped Endeavor cover up what happened with Touya?? HOO BOOYYYY…)

Obviously a lot of this is predicated on the Dabi is a Todoroki theory being true, but I just… I think there’s something meaningful going on in Hawks’ links to both Endeavor and Dabi. This doesn’t feel accidental. And if it isn’t accidental, the drama is going to be sooooo good. HORIKOSHI PLEASE.

Even if the Dabi is a Todoroki theory doesn’t pan out, I still think this ship would be cute–personally, I would love to see a situation in which Hawks gets comfortable enough to tease Dabi like he teases Endeavor, because if you don’t think that happy!Hawks is the most charming thing in BNHA, I don’t even know what manga you’re reading, because it certainly isn’t the same one I’m reading. Playful, quirky Hawks takes broke ass Dabi out to dinner all the time and then yammers on for hours about stuff that has nothing to do with their work for the League, while Dabi stares on blankly, at a total loss for what to do with all this energy and enthusiasm? Adorable.

I’m making a prayer circle now so that Horikoshi will deliver me some delicious angst and suffering.

#dabi #hawks #hot wings #hawks x dabi #dabi is a todoroki #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia spoilers #I keep forgetting that Hawks is a spoiler to like everyone #except the people like me who have the raws on feed lolol #foe yay #I LOVE ANGST #AND BIRD BOYS #my hero academia spoilers #bnha spoilers

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yasminsqueendom · 5 years ago

Text

Antique the Vamp Geek Pt1 Ep5

CW:Death, violence, blood drinking, murder, sexually suggestive social media handles, anxiety/stress

A/N: This is the second Q and A. I guess at this point I started getting into a flow of how I wanted the series to move.

W/C: 1075

Hey babes! I'm back again. I've got mixed news. I'll let y'all decide how to feel about it.

So, if you pay any attention to the news, and even if you don't, I'm sure you've heard of the exsanguinated bikers. For those of you who haven't, here's the story.

So shortly after my last cast was posted, three biker dudes from Bikers Against Vamps were found in the public restroom of a bar completely drained of blood with marks on their necks.

Naturally, riots ensued and several people were violently murdered in their homes, in markets, pretty much anywhere. All of these people weren't vamps, but just like those BS “stand your ground” laws were the excuse of the early 2010's, “I thought they were gonna infect me” is the excuse of our time.

9 unnecessary deaths of innocent people, and 32 injuries from assaults, and an untold number of yelled slurs later, the local authorities released “previously unknown” info. THE BIKERS WERE NOT KILLED BY VAMPS!

You heard that right.

Coroner's report showed that there was no blood around the wounds on their necks. Which literally translates to: they were already dead when the wounds were made. They found precise cuts right under their arms that could only be done by a knife. Blood soaked clothes were found in a nearby alleyway.

THEY WEREN'T EVEN FROM THAT BIKER GANG!

They were three homeless men who were used to set up a major conspiracy against US.

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this. I see that a lot of you have sent me questions that I will be getting to at the end. All related articles and links will be posted on the station's website.

Update #2

Thanks to the support of pro-vamp allies and the endless labor done by vamps that are tired of living in hiding, 5 states have passed laws making violence illegal against people based on their infection status. Whether or not this law is enforced is entirely based upon the mood of law enforcement when the need arises.

Update #3

Some clinics are open until 2 hours before dawn and 2 hours after dusk now. The addresses and info for those clinics will be posted on the website as well.

Update #4

I think my younger sibling may suspect that I am a vampire. I'm scared af about it.

Update #5

There is a working list of resources for baby vamps who may need some assistance in terms of talking to someone or connecting with an experienced vamp. Some of them have been quietly communicating on the internet. While they have not publicly disclosed their status, they seem very knowledgeable, and so far have been open to online communication. A link to the chats and forums they frequent can also be found on the website.

Update #6

Maybe this is the scariest one of all for me, personally. My school has required that all students get tested for vampirism and submit their results to the nursing facilities by the end of the semester. A few students have just dropped out. I'm so scared rn. I don't know what to do.

So ummm. Let's move on to questions.

One from @babyvamp.god: Hey Tique! I'm a “baby vamp” and I wanna thank you for giving us a voice. My question is this...do you find that black vampires face a different struggle than other races?

Ok so. Clearly I'm proudly and openly black and unapologetic about it. I'm coming to terms with the virus. It's a new and scary identity, but all the other shit is still there. I still get followed when I shop. I still get asked to answer all the awkward race questions in classes full of white students. I still make less than other people at my day job. On top of that, I'm a woman. I still flinch when men walk up too quickly behind me. I still hold my keys in my hand to scratch out the eyes of potential attackers at night. On top of that, I'm poor. I work almost 30 hrs a week and I'm a full time student. I literally don't even have time to breathe. My scholarships are the only thing keeping me afloat. And at least two of them are religious based. My sexuality is none of your business, but if you've been paying attention then it's obvious. I am everything my family fears and despises. Vampirism is just the newest thing. Everything else is the same.

Ok. Here's a question from @godforgiveus777: where do you think your soul will go when you die?

So I've already made my religious stance clear. I chose to answer this question just to reiterate. I will join my ancestors. They will welcome me. Who needs heaven when I've got a home?

Another question here from @flayedtothegawds: In your last cast, you talked about the sun's effects on you. I burn almost immediately. Why did it take so long for you?

Well, I don't know what you look like. Based on what I've read, melanin plays a large role in the amount of time a vamp can spend in the sun. Also, I was extremely hungover so I may not have noticed immediately. And I was still in transition. So there's that. My only advice is lots of sunscreen, and long sleeves and pants all the times. The darker the material, the better. And layers! Sunlight has a harder time filtering through layers.

Here's one from @chun.li.kix6: I've heard a term going around “fang-raped”. What do you think of it?

Short answer: I fucking hate it.

Long answer: I reeeeeaaaaaaallly fucking hate it.

Next question from @ivegotthemeats813: have you noticed a spike in your...you know. Sex drive?

No. I was always a horndog. Added stress requires added release. I fuck more because I would rather not cry more.

An annoying ass question because I don't discriminate from @gangofhens10: It was very difficult to understand you in your last cast. Could you record it again with less slang?

Not if you paid me. Ole bum ass. Ole “i can't understand black talk” face ass hoe. No offense to real ass hoes though.

So that's it for questions and updates for today! Catch me here same time and place next week.

Remember to moisturize and hydrate *wink wink*

I love you all.

Love Tique.

#black vamps #vamps #vampires #vampire #black women in fiction #black fiction #black women #black fic

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concernedlily · 6 years ago

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post-s7

I process in fic, so... post s7, heavy Voltron s7 spoilers obviously, OTP-centric and 18+ (Keith/Acxa then Sheith), serious headcanon re: Shiro and Atlas.

“What about Morgan?” Keith says. “He’s single.”

“Keith, seriously,” Shiro says. “I don’t need a date.” It’s nice that Keith is newly in bliss with Acxa, and sweet of him to want to see that shared with Shiro, but this is the third set up Keith has floated to him and he decides it’s time he shut it down properly. “Besides, even after everything that happened here, most Earth guys still aren’t too used to the idea of sharing their boyfriend with a sentient creature with the weight of an aircraft carrier and the temperament of an overtired toddler.”

“Oh yeah,” Keith says. Atlas isn’t difficult, per se, but she’s young and strong, and possessive enough of her captain that after just a few minutes of conversation with Keith Shiro can feel her curiosity in the back of his mind, settling down when she realises who he’s talking to: Black is about one of the only things she respects. He’s still building his relationship with her, and the idea of trying for intimacy with another person at the same time just exhausts him.

“You want to come out for dinner with us tonight?” Keith says.

“Dinner?” Shiro says, already envisioning a nice team outing. He sees Coran and Allura most, Pidge too, all of them based at the Garrison with Allura de facto head of the alien delegations and Coran and Pidge engineering the next generation of Earth’s defensive forces, but Hunk and Lance are spending most of their time with their families, their lions helping with construction where they can and not coincidentally doing wonders for morale: important work, but he misses them.

“With me and Acxa,” Keith says.

“Thanks,” Shiro says, slapping a smile on. “But I’ve got another Coalition leaders tour of the Garrison to give in the morning. Better not.”

Keith looks disappointed, but he’s as busy as Shiro these days and it’s the middle of the afternoon. Shiro watches him go, until Atlas nudges at him again, wondering what he’s doing, and he sighs and gets back to work.

***

“... and the sex was -“

Keith is pinking up and Shiro has to stop him. “Okay, I don’t need to know about that,” he says, chuckling. “I’m glad you guys had a good weekend, though. It’s nice she’s seeing more of Earth.”

“Right,” Keith says. “Sorry.”

He hugs Shiro goodbye today, his arms wrapped around Shiro’s neck. He’s still growing, like being around his mom and Acxa is spurring on his Galra side: Shiro’s mouth is at the high arch of his cheekbone now. He remembers when Keith had fit snugly under his chin when they hugged.

He puts his arms around Keith in return. He’s fully used to Allura’s gift now, and it works great: about the only thing the Galra arm had done better was that other than during battle the sensation from it had been so close to real his brain had fooled itself that last rest of the way. There’s always something just a little bit off with this one.

“We’re brothers, right?” Keith mumbles and Shiro strokes his back once more and steps back from him gently.

“Of course we are,” he says.

***

He doesn’t think of Keith like a brother. He thinks of how Keith had blushed when he’d tried to talk about all the sex he was having with his girlfriend. He thinks about whether Keith flushes like that during sex, whether his throat gets torrid too, his chest, whether his nipples get red and hard when they’re licked. He thinks about whether Keith is athletic, attentive, how he fucks.

He doesn’t know when he started to think like that; it almost the only thing he thinks about, now, when he’s alone in the dark. He touches himself, and he bites down on Keith’s name when he comes.

***

Something large and unpleasant attacks, because it’s Tuesday. Black is out with Keith and Acxa helping the Blades, they don’t have Voltron; it starts to go badly, by most standards, normal by Shiro’s, and Atlas panics in mech form, crying out in his mind.

“Come on,” he says, Lance in his comms yelling to the other paladins to give them support. “Come on, baby, you’re doing so well, give me a little bit more.”

He passes out.

***

He comes around on the bridge, in Keith’s arms.

“We didn’t even need Voltron!” Coran assures him cheerfully, patting his station fondly. “New energy weapon! Pop Pop couldn’t have designed her any better!”

Allura is kneeling on his other side, her hand on his chest.

“You’re using too much of your own quintessence to fly her, Shiro,” she says, crumpled with concern.

“She needs me,” Shiro says. Atlas isn’t like the lions, an experienced warrior in her own right, or crafted from a meteor and born of a race with thousands of years of alchemy and advanced tech behind them. She just takes <i>more</I>.

Keith’s grip on him tightens. Acxa is hovering behind him, watching them; she looks away when Shiro’s glance lands on her.

***

Krolia doesn’t get back to Earth often, but she’s on Shiro’s list of people who can interrupt him any time when she does. They spend a while talking about the possibility of Atlas going out into deep space, once they’ve finished the next two battle-class ships: there was only one Castle crystal, unfortunately, but they can take on defending Earth and free up Atlas to be going out by wormhole on other missions. A ship that can turn independently into a superweapon and then turn back into a cruiser capable of accommodating thousands of refugees is very useful.

Krolia’s not much of a small talker, but neither is Shiro, these days; there’s too many big things in his head, and some days he thinks they might fall out if he opens his mouth at all. She says something about a mission Acxa is on, though, and that catches his attention.

“Acxa’s working with the Blades?” he says. “How long for?”

She gives him an odd look that turns piercing. He hates it when she does that: it’s always hard, for the first second of a Galran looking at him that way, like dinner, to remember she’s on their side. “Permanently.”

“What?” he says.

She says, “You should talk to my son.”

***

“Krolia told me you and Acxa broke up,” he says, when he finally finds Keith, in Black’s hangar, a small figure curled under a blanket against her paw. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Keith says, and sits up. He’s not in cadet orange anymore: he’s wearing an officer’s jacket, now, waist-length - some sort of weird compromise between the old cropped jacket he used to wear and the regulation length - and Shiro has to tear his gaze away from the line of pale skin bared by it when he stretches. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Shiro says, although he figures he already knows the answer to that. Keith hadn’t even come to him with the news they’d split up. Once he’d been Keith’s main confidant for everything, and for just a moment he thinks he’d give up everything he’s doing, the whole mess of the Garrison and being their public face and the work with the Coalition, for the simplicity of having that again; just one person relying on him. He sits down and Cosmo sighs, big sides heaving, and shifts to put his head on Shiro’s thigh.

Keith shrugs, but he doesn’t say no, and Shiro waits. “She still felt like she had a lot to atone for,” Keith says. “And... I guess I agreed with her a little too much, in the end. For it to work.”

“Oh,” Shiro says.

“She said... it seemed like I wanted someone who’s been on my side from the beginning,” Keith adds.

Shiro looks at him. Keith is looking back, crimson and anxious, hoping, and Shiro closes his eyes and kisses him.

***

The blush does go all the way down.

#Voltron #voltron spoilers #Sheith #my fic #s7 reaction post

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family-business-one-shots · 7 years ago

Text

So I wrote a thing...

A/N: I wrote this for something not tumblr related and hadn’t planned on posting it here but @bellero practically forced me to (not that I really mind, I love that kid ;)). It’s a bit different from my normal style, because 1) it’s completely in third person and 2) it’s not about Supernatural. This is based on the MCU, and takes place a little bit after the events of Captain America: Civil War. The reader is Tony Stark’s 15 year old daughter. I’ve never written for Marvel before, but hopefully y’all enjoy it!

Relationship: Tony Stark x Daughter!reader

Words: 1,872

Warnings: lots and lots of angst, mention of imprisonment, a heck ton of tears

“Dad? Can we talk?”

Tony glanced up from where he sat on the couch to see Y/N standing in the doorway. She looked as though she was still deciding whether or not to enter the room, which immediately set Tony on edge.

“Sure, kid,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

Breathing deeply, Y/N made her way over to the couch and sat down, further away from her father than normal, he noticed. He tried not to think about it. Her eyes darted over to the giant television mounted on the wall across from them, and Tony, realizing that this seemed to be a different kind of conversation, reached for the remote and turned the system off. Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

“What’s up?”

Y/N stalled for a moment, staring down at her hands in her lap, before finally raising her head and meeting her father’s gaze.

“You know I love you, right?” she said, catching Tony completely off guard.

“Uh… y-yeah,” he stammered. “And I love you, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Y/N. “And I know that you’d do anything for me, no matter what.”

Tony’s brows knit together in confusion. “Of course I would, Y/N/N. What-- where are you going with this?”

Y/N took a quick breath as she responded, “Dad, I think… no, I know I need to take some time away. I need to--to leave.”

Whatever Tony had been expecting, this definitely hadn’t been it.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I just need to get away for awhile. Away from the compound, away from everything that happened, away from… you.”

Although his features remained unchanged, Tony could practically feel his heart breaking. Here was his daughter, his baby girl, his pride and joy, telling him that she was leaving. Not just leaving their home, but leaving him. After everything he’d gone through recently, all the fighting and the betrayal… this was just the cherry on top of a rotten sundae.

“Why?” he asked, the question coming unbidden to his lips. He tried so hard to keep his emotions in check, to stay calm, at least for Y/N’s sake.

She smiled sadly, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “You know why, Dad. I need to take a step back from everything to process and deal. I mean, my family is--is gone. They’ve been imprisoned and forced to go on the run and” --Y/N took a shaky breath-- “they’ve left me.”

Unable to meet her gaze any longer, Tony looked down; she was talking about Pepper. Guilt and shame washed over him like a wave, knowing that he was the reason for all of this, that he was the cause of her pain. Y/N seemed to read his thoughts.

“I don’t blame you, Dad,” she said, leaning over to grab his hand. “At least… not completely.” Tony raised his head. “I know that S-Steve had a hand in this whole mess, but… so did you.”

He nodded dumbly -- no point in denying what was so obviously true.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, wincing at the slight crack in his voice when he said her name.

Shaking her head, Y/N let go of his hand and replied, “No. I’m sorry, Dad. I just… I need to do this on my own, you know? I need to focus on myself, instead of everyone else around me.” She blinked, and the first tears fell. “I mean, this is the second time this has happened to me; my family has been torn apart from the inside twice.”

Tony closed his eyes, remembering with disgust what Stane did to him and his daughter eight years ago.

“Before, I was too young to understand,” she explained as silent tears came racing down her cheeks, “and since Unc-- he was dead, it was easier to just forget about it, sweep it under the rug and move on, but… I’m not seven years old anymore. I can’t just keep going like nothing ever happened. Not this time.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Tony understood. He couldn’t argue with her. He saw exactly where she was coming from, and he knew, deep inside, that it was better -- for both of them -- that she go.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure,” said Y/N. “A few months, maybe. Possibly the whole school year.”

At this, Tony’s head shot up, his features colored with confusion. “School year?”

Y/N cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m, uh… I’m going to a real school, a real high school. No more private tutors.” Tony opened his mouth, but she cut him off, “I’ve already talked to my tutors here, and my piano and violin instructors. I put everything on a temporary cancellation, since I don’t know when or if I’ll be coming back to them.”

With every word that came out of her mouth, Tony felt his resolve breaking down, little by little. It wasn’t until that one word -- if -- that he truly felt the crushing weight of the reality of the matter. He sucked in a shallow breath, trying not to let any of his own tears fall as he stared at his daughter.

“Where are you going?” he whispered, not caring anymore that his voice sounded as broken as he felt.

“New York,” said Y/N. “Queens, actually. I found a good school down there that’ll let me keep playing piano and violin and doesn’t seem too academically hard.”

“Which one?”

“Uh, Midtown Science and Technology, I think.”

Tony gave a small nod, digesting this new information, until a thought occurred to him. “Where will you stay?”

“The school found a family for me to live with,” she replied, “a boy my age and his aunt. They’re getting paid by the school to take me in.”

“The school’s paying them?” Tony asked, his curiosity involuntarily piqued. “How does a New York public high school have enough money for something like that?”

The barest trace of a smile danced on her lips for a second. “They don’t. But we do.”

Shaking his head, Tony laughed without humor. As he blinked back the traitorous tears that threatened to spill over at any second, he said, “You’re definitely my daughter.”

There was quiet after that, neither father nor daughter moving or speaking. They sat on the couch for minutes on end, drinking in the silence, both knowing, somewhere deep inside, that once it was broken, there’d be no going back to the way things were.

“I guess this is goodbye, then.”

It was Tony who spoke first, shattering the fragile line that had been drawn. If she was leaving, really truly leaving, he just wanted her gone. It physically hurt him to think that, but it hurt him even more to know that he was causing his daughter any pain.

Y/N shook her head furiously, in part to stop her almost unending tears. “No, Dad, no. Not goodbye. Just… see you later.”

Tony hummed, more to himself than in answer to her. Another moment of silence passed before Y/N finally spoke.

“I, uh… I better go,” she told him, rising up from the couch. “Happy’s waiting for me out in the car and, well, you know how he gets.”

“Hang on,” Tony said, startled. He got up from his seat as well. “You’re leaving now?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Y/N rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Y-yeah, Dad. The family I’m living with is expecting me today, that’s part of the deal--”

“You didn’t think to tell me this before the day you were supposed to leave?” said Tony, his voice rising quickly. “And what if I’d said no? What if I’d said you couldn’t go live in New York City all by yourself with some random boy I don’t know?”

“I would have gone anyway!” Y/N yelled, throwing her arms down by her side. Her emotions were getting the best of her as more tears fell. “I’d have forced Happy to drive me to the city because I can’t take this anymore! You’ve all been playing the victim because he did this and she did that but what about me, huh? No one’s bothered to talk to me about any of this! No one cared enough to talk to me after my whole world collapsed! Do you know what it’s like to watch the people you love fight each other to death?”

Tony stood there stunned, staring silently at his daughter. She was right -- with all that had happened, in the aftermath of everything, he hadn’t even thought to check on how she was doing, if she was okay.

“I wasn’t allowed to put my two cents into the conversation because ‘the adults are talking, Maggie, why don’t you go play your violin because you can’t possibly know what you’re talking about.’ Well, guess what, I do know what I’m talking about, so here’s my two cents -- you’ve all been acting like children!” She was shouting now, finally unloading everything that had been keeping her up late into the night for days on end. “Everybody had to be right! Everybody had to have the last word! But if you’d just listened to each other, none of this would have happened!” Her whole body began shaking, whether from the anger, the frustration, or the sobs that threatened to overtake her, she didn’t know. “The ‘adults’ were the ones who messed everything up and made my life a living nightmare! And I--have--had it!”

As she finished with her long overdue rant, Y/N’s chest heaved from the screaming and the effort it took not to break down crying right then and there. She looked away from her father.

Tony remained frozen, his mouth hanging open dumbly.

When the rise and fall of her chest had slowed to a relatively normal rate and the angry tears had stopped falling, Y/N finally met her father’s gaze, piercing him with those fierce eyes.

“I’m leaving,” she said, her voice remarkably even. “You can try to stop me if you want, but if you do, I will never ever forgive you for it. I swear.”

Unable to form words, Tony simply gaped at her.

“Don’t bother calling me, I’ve already had F.R.I.D.A.Y. change my number and erase the old one from every file in the Stark database.” With one last look at her father, Y/N turned and started walking away from him, away from the only family she really had left. “I hope you get everything figured out, Dad. I really do. Until then…”

When she reached the doorway, she hesitated, wanting nothing more than to turn around and run into his arms and apologize for her outburst, to tell him she had changed her mind. But, no, she couldn’t change her mind, not now. She’d passed the point of no return. There was no going back. Not anymore. Finding her resolve, Y/N Stark kept walking, leaving the compound, her home, and making her way outside to where Happy was waiting for her.

She didn’t look back.

#marvel #tony stark #marvel cinematic universe #tony stark x reader #dad!tony #tony stark x daughter!reader #mcu #iron man #avengers #tony stark one shot #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #marvel one shot #family business one shot

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allourheroes · 6 years ago

Text

So, a second part to this. Here’s Derek and Stiles trying to explain...

R-ish (for flashback) | ~1500

NEW: Tumblr Series Link

{ ao3 }

“How much do I tell him?” Stiles murmurs, quiet enough that even his dad who may or may not be listening at the door (Derek hasn’t confirmed either) won’t hear.

Derek takes a while to answer. “We should tell him the truth.”

“‘Hey, Dad. Derek was just healing me with his magic dick. Don’t worry, I’m all better now’?” Stiles suggests with more sarcasm than is necessary.

“Do you have a better idea?”

Stiles blows out a long breath. “Guess not.” His gaze flickers from where his hands are clasped before him, elbows on his knees, over to Derek by his side. “You?”

Derek shakes his head. His eyes meet Stiles’s. “Everyone will know now. Not just your father.”

Stiles inhales shakily. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Derek offers his hand and Stiles takes it. “Should we start with this?” he asks. “With us?”

“Probably for the best,” Stiles says. “It’ll make the other stuff...less...bad…?” Stiles suggests, but he’s really uncertain about whether telling his dad he’s in a relationship with Derek, former murder suspect and fully grown man in his mid-twenties, is better than saying he and Derek had sexual contact only once because it was a life or death situation. Honestly, both sound so bad, Stiles sort of hopes he’ll spontaneously combust before he actually has to explain. Or they’ll be attacked by a whole pack of rabid alphas.

But it’s preferable to the nogitsune. The thought barely crosses his mind before he has to shut it down.

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand a little tighter.

~~~

Two hours earlier:

Derek’s phone buzzes with a text from Stiles, but before he can check it, his phone is ringing.

“I figured out what they did to me,” Stiles says. “And I need you to get you werewolf ass over here right now. Like, right now.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at school. Where alllll the other supernatural creatures go during the day. Except, thankfully, Peter. But, no, please, okay? I’m actually saying please. Please get your werewolf ass over here or I might literally die.”

Derek doesn’t need to be told again, he lets Stiles know and he’s at the school in minutes.

He finds Stiles in an empty classroom and already he can smell it: There’s something wrong. Something different. Stiles holds up his phone and Derek’s eyes skim the information with growing horror.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Same.”

“What do you need me to do? Protect you? Get you to Deaton?”

Stiles sighs. “Keep scrolling.”

Derek does and his eyebrows rise. “Here? Now?”

“The sooner the better. I don’t know how long until they start noticing.”

And then Derek is pressing his mouth to Stiles’s, because if they’re going to do this whole fuck-or-die thing—again—at least they can make it bearable this time. Not like when they were stuck in the back of that van which was, incidentally, the first time they had fucked.

It’s why Derek isn’t surprised Stiles pulls lube from his backpack and why, only a couple of minutes later, he’s fucking into Stiles and resisting the urge to change. He’s holding Stiles’s chest with fingers that keep trying to become claws as he presses his chest to Stiles’s back and has to deal with the fact that they’re both wearing shirts because stripping in a classroom might be even worse than just fucking in one.

They’re only undressed enough to conjoin their bodies and they’re using the cabinets for leverage and it’s going great, really. All things considered, they could be having a much worse time during their illicit, semi-public fuck-or-die scenario, but then Stiles’s hand slips and there’s a loud thud.

Hard and fast, they’re just finishing when the door opens.

“Great,” Stiles murmurs, but at least he feels the effects of the toxin receding.

“Stilinski?” Coach Finstock calls from the doorway.

Stiles hangs his head. “How can he even see me?”

~~~

When they come out, they aren’t interlinked. No matter how united they may be, it feels weird to be touching like that in front of the sheriff.

Noah Stilinski sits them down at the dining room table.

It’s the middle of the day and his teenaged son was caught having sex with an adult werewolf on campus, so Stiles can guess that today isn’t his dad’s best day.

“Life and death,” Noah says without preamble. “Explain.”

Stiles sucks in a breath. He still isn’t sure that’s the part he wants to start with, but it seems to be the only thing his dad wants to hear. “You know how I’m way more careful now after everything that happened?” His Dad just glares—and Stiles is both sad and proud, because his dad’s current lack of pity feels so utterly normal, he could cry. “Well, it doesn’t mean nothing bad gets me anymore. That’s just, like, my life since Scott got bitten.”

“Get to the part where I had to talk to your principal. Because you, a seventeen-year-old, were having sex with Derek here, age twenty-four, on your high school campus.” Noah Stilinski is in Sheriff Mode and Stiles sighs because, yeah, fair.

“He got infected,” Derek says, sounding calm and even but looking hunted. “There’s a certain toxin the hunters use, one based in druidic magic that they picked up from a rogue emissary, that causes werewolves to go after the host.” The sheriff looks like he’s going to say something about that phrasing, but Derek continues on. “It’s something they do to draw us out, make sure they’re still following their code because we feel an instinct to attack and kill a human. The toxin can also kill the human on its own, weaken the wolves who come into contact with it.”

“Uh-huh,” Noah says. “And were you attacking Stiles?”

Stiles sees that Derek is making that face, the one that says answering will cause him physical pain, so Stiles steps up. “He wasn’t attacking me because...there’s a way to get rid of the toxin.” Now the sheriff looks like he’s in pain, can see where this is going, but Stiles had promised to explain. “Derek saved my life, Dad.” He clears his throat. “Via sex.”

The sheriff closes his eyes, visibly gathers himself together. “And I should believe this why?”

“Because it’s the truth,” Derek says, sounding sure.

“So you,” and Noah Stilinski is focused on Derek now, “had to have sex with my underage son?”

“Would it help if we’re in love?” Stiles blurts, earning both his father’s and Derek’s raised eyebrows. “No?” He lets out a puff of air. “Okay.”

“The longer the toxin is in him, the worse it gets.” Derek shifts uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” Stiles assures, “so I needed Derek in me—” His eyes go big. “I mean, to help me. Immediately.” With a subliminal nod, he adds, “And you can ask Deaton. It’s a real thing.”

“Uh-huh.” But Noah Stilinski still sounds just as skeptical. Stiles isn’t sure if he actually can see a vein throbbing or if he’s just imagining it.

They all sit in silence. Well, except for the drumming of Stiles’s fingers on the table.

Finally, the sheriff says, “So did you mean it?”

Stiles’s mouth opens and closes like a fish’s. “Mean what?”

Noah sucks in a breath. “The, uh, the love thing.”

Stiles and Derek exchange looks. “Are you going to arrest Derek?” Stiles asks instead.

Noah shrugs. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Would us—I mean, would it be better if we’re together or if this was just was just a one time life-saving thing?” he voices. “I couldn’t decide when I was figuring out what to say.”

Mouth agape in anger, Noah replies, “Just tell me the truth.”

“I’m...sort of dating Derek?” Stiles says in a rush, then immediately squeezes his eyes shut and winces.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits. “A while? But no one knows!” He tries a grin. “So, you’re the first to find out.”

“I don’t,” and Noah struggles to find the right words, “fully approve of this. And it’s still illegal. But, at this point, I guess I’m just happy you’re with someone who isn’t a murder suspect. Current murder suspect,” he specifies.

“I love you, Dad.” Stiles means it.

“Yeah, yeah. I expect a medal of valor for the crap you put me through.” But Noah Stilinski’s eyes have softened. “I’m glad you’re okay, kiddo.”

Stiles smiles, his dad smiles back, and he waits all of ten seconds before saying, “Can me and Derek go upstairs now?”

Derek is very carefully not looking at the incredulous expression on the sheriff’s face.

“For research,” Stiles clarifies, but it doesn’t sound good.

Sheriff Stilinski clears his throat. “Pretty sure you boys have done enough research for one day.”

Ten minutes later, Stiles and Derek are doing more “research” upstairs.

“If I hear anything—anything!—I’m arresting Derek and you’ll be grounded!” Noah shouts from the living room, and he knows they can hear it.

Stiles, however, is too busy thoroughly making out with Derek—without some stupid excuse and of his own volition—to pay him much mind.

#sterek #eternalsterek #derekstiles #stilesderek #sterek fic #tw fic #fic #more of this universe might happen #explaining series

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scriptmedic · 7 years ago

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Injury Profiles: Suicide Attempt (Wrist Lacerations)

Welcome back to Mangled Mondays, where every Monday we talk about another facet of maiming, mangling, mauling, and mistreating your main characters — and all of their friends.

Today we’ll be talking about Wrist Lacerations as a form of suicide attempt. Because this is a sensitive topic for many readers, I’ve omitted some visuals for this post on Tumblr, and you should feel free to skip it if you feel it might upset you.

For the rest of the Mangled Mondays series, [click here].

Lethality Index

1 or 5 (depending on whether the artery was lacerated)

What Is It?

Sometimes, characters want to end their own lives. It’s tragic, and it’s heartbreaking. And if you’re reading this and considering ending your own life, please don’t.

However, this is one of the most common questions that crops up on the ScriptMedic blog: What happens when my character slashes their own wrists?

The answer is entirely along the lines of it depends.

First, we need to consider the anatomy of the wrist. The wrist itself is a collection of ten bones (which compose one of the most flexible joints in the body). There is also a complex set of muscles and tendons that control the motions of the hands, and two arteries that ensure that the hand gets excellent blood flow.

Yes, two. The radial artery is the more commonly known of the pair, and healthcare workers long ago discovered that if they compress the wrist over the radial artery they can feel a patient’s pulse. But there’s also the lesser-known cousin, the ulnar artery, which passes over the pinky side of the wrist. If one artery is damaged or lost, the other is able to keep blood flow to the hand. (This is why we can put arterial IV lines into the radial artery; the hand has the ulnar artery to ensure we don’t stop blood flow to the hand.)

Typically, it’s the radial artery…

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The effectiveness of a suicide attempt by wrist laceration is going to depend on two things: the direction of the laceration, and the depth of the cut. The artery is deeper than many people think, and it takes some effort to cut down and pierce it.

The most effective lacerations in this scenario are going to be deep cuts that begin at the pulse point on the wrist and extend up the long axis of the arm (toward the crook of the elbow). This makes clotting extremely difficult.

The least effective lacerations will run along the short axis of the arm, at least 2cm / 1 inch further up from the site of the pulse point. This is because the radial artery is close to the surface of the skin at the wrist but dips fairly deep a few centimeters above that point; shallow cuts will not nick the artery.

Generally speaking, the laceration’s ability to threaten life is dependent entirely upon whether or not the artery is lacerated. If it’s left intact, these wounds are not life threatening, though they may affect function or appearance of the arm; if it’s injured, the character may bleed to death, though it’s possible that they won’t.

“Cry for help” cuts

Many people consider shallow, horizontal lacerations that are ineffective in reaching the artery to be “cry for help” cuts. The idea is that the character “didn’t want to die badly enough” to actually pierce the artery. While this is true in some cases, it is not true in all; the instinct against self-harm in humans is strong, and fear of pain is a large part of human survival. Two characters can have the same level of intent to die, but one may succeed and one may fail, due either to lack of understanding of anatomy or to unwillingness to face pain along with their death.

Radial and ulnar arteries. Gray’s Anatomy, 1918. Public Domain.

In short: just because a character’s cuts are shallow doesn’t mean their intent wasn’t “real.”

We can then categorize these attempts into two groups: nonlethal and potentially lethal. They have very different outcomes and consequences, so while they share a mechanism in common, they’ll be treated separately.

Nonlethal – Clinical Signs

Bleeding from damaged skin (oozing).

Venous bleeding (flowing) is possible, especially for short-axis lacerations.

Potential difficulty moving the hand due to nerve damage or tendon damage.

Multiple cuts may be apparent.

Potentially Lethal – Clinical Signs

Arterial hemorrhage: spurts of bright red blood, in time with the pulse.

As the character enters hypovolemic (decreasing volume of circulating blood) shock, their heart rate will climb, blood pressure will fall, skin will become pale and cool and sweaty, and they may lose consciousness.

As blood pressure falls, the character may become confused and disoriented.

If the hemorrhage isn’t stopped in time, the character will die.

Nonlethal – Symptoms

Pain; worse with the blunter instruments such as scissors or broken glass, less with sharper instruments such as scalpels or razor blades.

If nerve damage: numbness in the hand.

Potentially Lethal – Symptoms

Pain, same as for nonlethal.

Feelings of anxiety or nervousness. Character may become certain that they are going to die (feeling of impending doom).

How Does It Happen?

A character attempts to slash their own wrist as a suicide attempt.

Alternatively, someone may attempt to murder a character and have it appear to be a suicide. This is seen more often in fiction than in real life.

Immediate Treatment

The immediate treatment of a suicide attempt in this manner is threefold.

First, hemorrhage control – stopping the bleeding – is critical for survival; the exact methods will be discussed below, as they vary based on the extent of the hemorrhage.

Second, it must be ascertained that the character has not attempted any other form of suicide. Many suicidal characters want to be “sure,” so they will ingest large quantities of alcohol and pills in addition to the attempt by knife.

Third, the character must be removed to a situation in which they are not a danger to themselves. A hospital is ideal, if available.

Nonlethal

Hemorrhage can usually be controlled with some form of dressing and pressure on the wound(s). Bleeding will also stop on its own, eventually, but it’s far better for the character to have their wounds dressed.

Potentially Lethal

Stopping arterial hemorrhage is of the utmost important; it is what will determine whether a character lives or dies.

A pressure dressing – a piece of dressing tied in place in such a way that the dressing itself puts pressure on the wound – will likely not be enough to stop the bleeding.

Instead, the treatment of choice is a tourniquet. Belts make poor tourniquets, because it’s very difficult to apply the correct amount of force over the skin. Instead, something like a wide strip of cloth or a scarf, tied using a stick, pair of scissors, or ruler as a windlass, will do well. Generally speaking, the wider the material, the safer it is on the skin.

EMS will likely use a commercially available tourniquet that is fast, effective, and safe.

Characters in shock will need to be kept warm with blankets (even on hot days). EMS may put in IVs but will likely not have blood products to administer, opting instead for IV fluids (Lactated Ringer’s, or LR, for preference).

One particularly vivid detail about tourniquets: it has long been the custom that when a tourniquet has been applied to a character, the one applying it writes the letters TK and the time – for example, “TK 1415” – in blood on the forehead. This is to alert all caregivers that the limb has been tourniquetted; limbs can survive tourniquets for a few hours, but start to die after 4–6 hours. (The time is always written in military time).

Definitive Treatment

Surgery / Hospitalization

For nonlethal injuries, the character will be treated in the emergency department, and will likely admitted to a psychiatric unit on an involuntary basis. The character is clearly a threat to themselves, which makes the admission not just reasonable but imperative in keeping them alive. Characters with complex medical needs will be admitted to a medical floor with a 1-to-1 monitor to keep them safe, since psychiatric units typically cannot meet complex medical needs of their patients. Characters in medical units will be visited by psychiatry staff.

In the emergency department they will get a physical evaluation of their wounds and of the hand to determine if there’s damage to the nerves. Wounds that are deep enough to require sutures will be sutured; see Part 0.3 regarding different suture types.

Characters who have lacerated their arteries, however, are in deeper trouble and will require a great deal more care from the medical team.

First is a full trauma evaluation, including mental status, breathing, circulation, and neurological function. The character may not wish to comply with these things, but they must.

The character will get IVs, likely more than one. Blood will also be drawn; the workup will include CBC (complete blood count), BMP (basic metabolic panel), a tox screen (for toxicology; characters may lie about what they’ve ingested or haven’t), and type-and-cross (blood typing and cross-matching with units of blood).

Characters in shock will be given a massive transfusion; that is, an infusion of blood products including red blood cells, plasma, and platelets. The specific amounts of each blood component given will be determined by the character’s lab values.

Some locations, including the US military, simply use whole blood for their transfusions; this is equivalent to using a ratio of components.

They will also require surgery to repair the damaged blood vessel. This is a relatively simple vascular surgery, but it’s critical to their survival. The sooner they can get into the OR for surgery, the better, since the tourniquet will limit the amount of time they have before limb damage occurs.

Surprisingly, the surgeon may opt not to actually repair the damaged artery. Since the ulnar artery actually provides most of the blood flow to the hand, they may simply opt to ligate (tie off) the damaged radial artery.

That said, the procedure is relatively short, it just needs to be done in a sterile environment.

The overlying skin will be sutured, likely with thread (where some ER providers may prefer a liquid suture, surgeons prefer thread; this choice is almost entirely down to a provider’s individual style.) If needed and available, vascular or hand surgeons may be consulted.

The character will likely be sent to the ICU for monitoring, and from there transferred to a step-down unit before being transferred to a psychiatric unit.

It’s worth noting that the character’s emotional state will also determine, in part, how they’re treated; characters who are calm or depressed will be comforted, but characters who are agitated or who attempt to rip out their stitches or harm themselves will be sedated. Characters who are anxious may be offered medication to help them calm down.

In the Austere Environment

Field sutures are the order of the day. Ligation, or tying-off, of the artery will have to be done by someone who knows what they’re doing.

Field transfusions are extremely rare, but are possible, especially if characters know their blood types ahead of time.

The Rocky Road to Recovery

Capabilities Retained

Characters will retain neurocognitive abilities (unless prolonged shock caused brain damage).

Characters will retain the ability to walk and use their arms.

Characters may or may not have full function in the affected hand.

Disabilities: Temporary

Some, but not all, characters may have some numbness or weakness in the affected hand, but these effects should be fairly minor and will usually get better over time.

Disabilities: Permanent

Some characters will have numbness or difficulty moving the distal parts of the hand, but this experience is not universal; many characters will have no lasting disabilities.

Features of Recovery: Hospital Stay

Emergency departments and ICU care have been noted above.

Characters with arterial injuries are at risk of complications from their surgery, including infection, arteriovenous (AV) fistulas (where the two blood vessels are directly connected and bypass the capillaries), and other vascular complications. They may need to return to the OR emergently at some point while in hospital.

Psychiatric units are locked-door units and are typically part of the hospital that originally received the patient, but the character may be transferred to a separate hospital for this portion of their recovery. (If so, they are always transferred by ambulance, not by car.)

Care inside psychiatric units is outside the scope of this book.

Features of Recovery: PT/OT

If the hand and wrist have ongoing numbness or weakness, exercises will be performed to help strengthen the affected hand.

The New Normal

Characters will typically form scars at the site of the injuries; these are publicly visible. Because of the location, they may hide them beneath a tattoo, a watch, or long sleeves. If visible, these scars are common enough that they may or may not be points of conversation or question, and characters may even bond over having similar scars.

Characters who have undergone a psychiatric admission may recover, or may reject what they’ve been taught and learned; this is character dependent and outside the scope of this book.

Future Risks

Characters who have made a single suicide attempt are at risk of trying it again, but this is not a curse; they are not doomed to repeat their attempts.

Total Recovery Time (Typical)

Wound healing: 4–6 weeks

Psychiatric recovery: variable

Sensory

Sights

Broken skin oozes dark red blood.

Lacerated veins emit a steady flow of dark red blood.

Lacerated arteries spurt bright red blood.

Characters may see stars if they are on the verge of losing consciousness. They may also see black spots or get tunnel vision immediately before passing out.

Blood will pool on flat surfaces, but also form clumps (clots) within a few minutes. Characters may trail blood when they walk, and may leave bloody handprints on everything they touch.

Smells

Blood has a pungent, sweet, coppery smell to it. It can cause nausea in those who smell it, especially in quantity.

Sounds

Characters may hear their pulse in their ears as their body begins to compensate for their blood loss. Blood from an artery might splatter against a surface; blood from a vein might make a plunking sound as it drips. Blood on carpet might produce a squish when walked over.

Sensations

An extremely sharp instrument like a scalpel or razor blade is reported as being very unpainful when used, almost surprisingly so. However, blunter tools, such as glass, screwdrivers, and pizza-cutting wheels, are extremely painful.

Medslang

“Up the road, not across the street.” – the “proper” way to commit suicide. Yes, healthcare workers are morbid humans.

Key Points

The severity of the injury is largely dependent on the damage, if any, to the radial artery.

Characters are guaranteed a psychiatric admission and will be placed on 1-to-1 care until they are in a locked inpatient psychiatric unit.

Characters who do not lacerate the artery can be admitted to psychiatry directly from the ER.

Characters who do lacerate the artery will likely need vascular surgery.

If the surgeon opts to ligate the damaged artery, the character will not have a palpable pulse in that wrist anymore.

Characters who lacerate the artery can enter shock and will likely require blood transfusions; this may require an ICU stay.

Characters may have some numbness or weakness in the affected hand; this will improve somewhat with time and physical therapy but may not disappear totally.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[disclaimer]

This post is an excerpt from Blood on the Page Volume One: A Writer’s Compendium of Injuries. The book details thirty-one injuries with which to maim, mangle, and maul your characters, as well as nine indispensable articles of Wound Wisdom covering everything from burn stages to suture selection.

Unsigned digital editions are available on [Amazon] and [everywhere else]. The Amazon link will take you to the print edition if a paper copy is more your thang.

The book will be out 10/23 COMES OUT TODAY!!!, just in time for NaNoWriMo!

Injury Profiles: Suicide Attempt (Wrist Lacerations) was originally published on ScriptMedicBlog.com

#hemorrhage #injury profiles #mangled mondays #suicide #wrist lacerations #masterposts #crossposts

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